


A Tiny Shoot of Hope

by Hattiemaude



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Angst, Child Loss, F/M, Family Loss, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Murder, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 75,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26365609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hattiemaude/pseuds/Hattiemaude
Summary: Set in 1700s Claire Beauchamp has come to live near by the loner Jamie Fraser. He has presence and yet she can tell that he is very closed off. The story begins after Jamie has been forced to reveal his most painful secret to Claire, convinced that the burgeoning friendship they had begun will now be cast aside. He has lost everyone he loves and is in such pain that he can't see how she could possible stick around after he's told her the truth about himself...
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser, Jamie Fraser/Jonathan "Black Jack" Randall
Comments: 660
Kudos: 392





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Never have I ever....posted a fan fic. This is a little scene that's been running around in my head. I've never written anything before so the only thing that I ask is be kind. 
> 
> Enjoy...I hope!

Storming into his cottage, Jamie reached for the precious bottle of fine whisky he kept hidden in the very back of his small pantry. Grabbing for the nearest vessel he could find (…damn, his everyday antler cup would do!), he poured himself a solid dram. He knocked it back in one, replacing it immediately by pouring another, taking little care over how accurate his aim was. The bottle collided with the rough wooden table a little harder than he meant, as his thoughts came crashing down on him like an torrent.

Finally stopping for the first moment since he had left her by the woods, he stared into the fire, slowly closed his eyes and let out a long shaky breath, realising that stopping the pain would be an impossible task. This time. Once again, he was alone. She would be lost to him for sure – how could she not be after what he had told to her? He had lost others before.

Many.

Everyone.

Despite the years of solitude; despite having guarded himself against opening his heart on those few occasions that he had thought to, something about Mistress Beauchamp, Claire, had been different. With Claire, he had found the tiniest of shoots growing in his heart over the months that she had arrived. This time...

Hope. 

But now… well, he knew how this played out now. She would turn away from him. She would be appalled. She would leave. How could she have him like this? _Why_ would she have him like this?

It had been many years since Jamie had allowed himself to truly feel the depth of his despair and humility; he usually managed to keep it at a distance. The sorry, lonely shoot began to wither before it had had a chance. For the first time in many years, tears swamped his eyes, at real danger of spilling over and down his cheeks.

Jamie couldn’t take the ever-growing ache that radiated from his heart, almost numbing his limbs, anymore. He certainly couldn’t sit still a moment longer; he had to move. Standing up suddenly, he opened his eyes, discarded the cup on the table and made to round off to the door. Only to be stopped in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat, by the sight of 2 amber eyes staring back at him from the door. It was her. She was here. She had followed him home? In his painful, self-hating haze, he had failed to hear her enter his small cottage. 

They both stood as still as the standing stones that command the landscape around the Highlands, time becoming unimportant. Jamie couldn’t say how long they stood staring at one another. His brain began to catch up with the situation though, and uncertainty as to why she was _actually_ there festered like a dank millpond.

Claire seemed to sense Jamie’s trepidation and very slowly moved towards him, never breaking eye contact. God, even in this moment the sway of her hips and skirt was not lost on Jamie. But why was she here? Surely she hadn’t followed him to berate him after his revelation?

Had Jamie of been able to take a moment to digest the scene, he would have remembered that Claire would never have been capable of treating anyone that way; he knew that really. Unfortunately, experience had created a muscle-memory like response and he feared that he would only see disgust and disappointment in her eyes….and yet…

He simply could not look away from her. Having refused to meet her eye previously, he was caught in her drowning gaze.

Was this a form of purgatory for him? Unable to look away from the tempting Medusa?

…and yet? Search as he might, locked in position; still unable to move, let alone breath, he could not see disgust or hatred in her beautiful eyes. He saw …compassion? Truly?

Claire came to rest in front of Jamie and slowly reached out her right hand to settle on his chest, just where the opening of his jacket was. She had never purposefully touched him before. In fact, it had been many years since anyone had touched Jamie without violence or disregard. There had been moments when both he and Claire had reached for the same thing; functional actions that had led them to briefly touch but, in this moment, she reached out and somehow her touch both calmed and excited him simultaneously. Jamie’s heart was beating so hard he was sure she could feel it through her fingertips. And yet still he could not draw himself to look away from those whisky eyes.

Gradually, Claire moved her hand up to his clavicle, on its journey to his neck and finally to tenderly cup his cheek. The look in Jamie’s eyes at that moment seemed suspicious as if to say, “Don’t hurt me. Don’t be unkind.” They narrowed further in disbelief as she moved her hand to the back of his neck; gifting him the most honest and heartfelt smile across her face and gently pulled.

Looking from eye to eye, a brief moment of resistance and then Jamie slowly bowed his head onto her shoulder…. and the dam burst; his shoulders silently heaving up and down as the tears and sorrow; the desolation escaped. He still couldn’t move his limbs and so only his head sought succour.

She had heard his story and she had stayed. Perhaps he was no longer being punished for his sins? Just maybe, his time in self-imposed purgatory had been served to the Almighty’s pleasure.

Jamie could feel Claire begin to caress the back of his head and his auburn curls as he broke down. Unbeknownst to Jamie, Claire was unable to help herself; she began to gently kiss the cheek closest to her. Her lips speaking the words of comfort that she could not find to say. They continued just below that smooth skin under his earlobe, and down the beginning of his neck, eventually returning its journey back up to his cheek.

Bolstered by her caring affections, Jamie turned his head suddenly and sought her soft lips. They were everything he had dreamed they would be. She never hesitated to return the affection. Eyes tightly shut, Jamie kissed her swift and gentle, to begin with. However, sensing no disagreement, he poured his heart and soul into a solid kiss, taking no prisoners. Claire could sense already that there was great passion hidden below Jamie’s gruff exterior but he was a man who held this in check, and Claire knew he would never over-reach without consent. This was unlike anything either of them had experienced before; it was as if they were both home; lost in one another’s soul.

Jamie felt Claire slowly part her lips and lick his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, in invitation. Was this truly happening? He was mesmerised by the experience. Their kisses continued, now accompanied by their arms around one another until finally, Jamie drew away; he took a moment to share the air with Claire as their mouths lay close, simply breathing, yet not touching.

“Thank you for trusting me, Jamie,” she whispered, hoarse from the kiss.

Rising to his full height, Jamie steeled himself, opened his sea blue eyes and met Claire’s piercing amber gaze. 

Hope.

He saw it there in her beautiful whiskey eyes. They held the promise of a safe future together. He was alone no more. Claire made him a man again. He would not let her down and he would not leave.


	2. At the water's edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What has happened to cause Jamie to storm into his cottage in search of whisky?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I said, this is my first foray into writing and I seem to be writing this backwards! 
> 
> If I manage to keep it going, I'll perhaps have a look at tweaking the order but for now this chapter and the next tell us some of what transpired before Jamie stormed into his cottage in need of whisky!

**************

Feeling like her heart was in her throat, Claire followed the hidden path down to the water’s edge. She was sure that this is where Mr Fraser, …Jamie, would have come. She had felt an almost ethereal quality to the place, when she had stumbled across it before, wandering one day in the woods. If he was to be found anywhere, it would be here.

Trudging through the trees and ferns, she soon caught sight of him sitting on a rock, arms clasped across his stomach, holding himself, as if to move would see his innards spill out. His chin rested on his chest, almost as if he were asleep. Claire suspected that had _she_ experienced the trauma that Jamie just had, that she too would try to shut out the world, however ineffective it might have been. 

She paused and simply watched over him for a short while. With his shirt ripped and no jacket to cover him, his scarred back was on unguarded display. She hadn’t known about the scars. Thinking back, she had recalled several occasions where he had bristled when another’s hands had drawn too near. It made sense now.

*****

God, his face when he realised what had happened. It sucked the very life out of her when she thought of it. Claire could not recall who had grabbed Jamie first; it had escalated so fast, but the pure and utter horror on his face, at his shirt being ripped from his body, overpowered by the crowd, would visit Claire’s mind in her own dark moments for ever more.

At first, she had been just as shocked as those surrounding him. The silence his exposed back caused had arrived abruptly, following the loud brawl. Clearly, despite having lived amongst them for many years, no one had ever seen nor heard about Jamie’s wounds. All attention had been solely set on judging him. The wrath that had been laid down on his strong back though was there for all to see now. Claire could not comprehend what would compel any human being to treat another in such a horrific manner, as it was all too clear that another’s hand had caused those vicious marks.

Another moment had passed and Claire’s shock had turned to anger. Anger that he had been so cruelly exposed in this way. The embarrassment and resentment he clearly felt had radiated with fury in his eyes and before Claire had a chance to speak up for him, he had pushed through the speechless crowd and marched off. She still had hold of his coat. In his rush to escape, he had completely forgotten it.

*****

And so here he was. Drawn here, as she had been, to the water’s comfort. Claire could almost taste the crushing devastation that spread out from the rock he sat on; it seemed to hang in the air. She could no longer deny to herself the overwhelming feelings that he had brought out in her, long before today. So often, when she had found herself alone, inevitably her mind had wandered to thoughts of Jamie and the intensity of her affection threatened to spill over her edges. To see him in his current state tore at her very being. She wanted to take him in her arms and fend off all the demons with his dirk. She wanted to wrap him secure, whispering never-ending words of comfort and reassurance into his auburn curls. 

She wanted to share his heavy load.

If this was ever to be the case though, she needed to know what his burden was. In the time that they had known one another, she had seen glimpses of …something wonderful. But, no sooner would it catch her eye than it would be gone and the smile; the sparkle in his eyes, were once again lost and the mask returned. She knew that to ever have a hope of finding that wonder again, she would have to persuade him to let her walk into the darkness with him.

Claire drew herself up, took one deep breath and began to walk towards him again. In a gentle voice she called,

“Mr Fraser.”

He shot up off of the rock. The rushing water of the stream not only mirrored his emotions but had also masked her arrival. He kept his piercing stare on the water, unable to turn and meet her eye. He fought the urge to cower under her gaze and instead held his ground. She moved a little nearer, yet still a good distance away, seeing him in profile now. Gentler still, she spoke.

“Jamie,…..tell me..…please.”

She could see a thunderous look on his face and was unsure as to whether he would indeed tell her. He was clearly not happy that she had asked. However, she stood firm and remained there for 2, …3, …4 minutes, knowing that one way or another they would stay there until he damn well told her.

Instinct led Claire to hold out his jacket for him and still without meeting her eye, he reached out his arm, internally grateful for the consideration she was showing him. She placed it in his hand and he took it from her. Jamie looked down at the rag that had been his smart shirt and slowly pulled its remnants away out of his trousers. He discarded it on the ground. He then slowly replaced his jacket with as much dignity as he could muster. To Claire though, he still looked every bit as noble and strong as any time she had found herself sneaking a glance at him before today. Jamie then lowered himself back down onto the rock leaning forwards, until his elbows rested on his knees.

Finally, with the never ending rush and noise of the stream highlighting the lack of sound from Jamie, he looked to the sky, squeezed his eyes shut and let out a deep, shaky breath. Evidently, he was looking for some divine courage to help him find the words. Slowly swallowing, he began in a distant voice,

“I…”

He faltered.

“I….had a wife. Her… her name wis Annalise. We met durin’ my time studyin’ at the Sorbonne in Paris. I fought a duel for her honour.” He let out a brief snort, clearly thinking of things still unsaid.

“I won. She returned tae Scotland with me. We were happy, fer a time. ….We were even blessed wie a child…”

Jamie’s face showed a searing pain and he turned his head away from Claire, controlling his mask by acting as if in deep concentration at something far down the stream. After a moment, he seemed to gather himself and turned his head back around to its original position, still not looking at her; still in profile. He spoke one word; almost a whisper,

“Willie.”

Claire would recall after, the exact moment that she heard the quiet sound of her heart breaking, joining his, shattered on the floor. She knew that there was no sign at all of Jamie having a wife and son in his life now. Indeed, it was clear and simple that he was alone. Claire had a growing feeling that something truly awful had befallen Annalise and Willie.

After another shaky sigh, Jamie continued,

“I have always been a stubborn man, Claire. Or so ma sister, Jenny, would aie tell me!”

_His sister?_

He snorted, “Well, takes one tae know one! All Frasers are the same. I was Laird Broch Turach of Lallybroch…. an’ I was a proud man. Too proud.”

Shaking his head as if appalled when thinking on his past behaviour and the man he had been, he admitted,

“It brought me down more than once! ”

He swallowed, then continued, “…One day, Annalise an’ I had spoken ill words over….I dinna ken what, but it was as I was readying tae leave fir a trip. Somethin’ aboot the root cellar or the stable…I canna mind. I climbed upon my horse an’ wieoot a single look back, I just…rode off. I never thought….”

Jamie closed his mouth and breathed firmly out through his nose. He stared and stared at the water with wide eyes, seeing scenes that were no longer there.

“I still hear her callin’ after me… It catches me sometimes… an’ I turn, heart in ma throat; thinkin’ she’s right there behind me.”

He sneered at the cruelty of it. Fury bubbling under the surface.

Claire slowly took a seat on a nearby rock, keen to avoid disturbing him in case he should cease to talk.

“After a time, my tenants; my friends; my family, well, it wis as if I had just upped an’ left her and the bairn. It wis like I’d abandoned them an’ Lord Broch Turach became a shameful man overnight!”

Claire was confused. What did this have to do with his scarred back? Why had he left them? Why did he not return? What had happened to make him feel so…bereft?

As Jamie thought about his next words, his jaw visibly tensed again.

“I, er… eventually managed to make it back home….but it had been months an' ...... in the end, it was all too late.”

“They were both dead.”

He said those final four words with a deep rumble and they hung heavy in the air; pressing into Claire’s lungs making it hard to breath. Her worst fear for him confirmed. Jamie sighed, shaking his head slowly from side to side simply trying to breath. He continued his story, unable to halt now that he had started.

“I wis told that a month after I left, 2 redcoat deserters had set upon them at Lallybroch. No-one could tell me who they were. Old Mrs Crook had been away tending to her ailing sister in Inverness and so it wis just the two o’ them there. Unprotected. ”

He croaked out the last word and Claire could see that his throat had all but constricted with emotion. When his next words were eventually spoken, they stole her breath away. 

“Slit her throat.”

“My boy’s too.”

“They weren’t found fir a week.”

Jamie spoke each sentence swift and firm, clearly the only way that those words could ever be uttered from his mouth. His chin slowly dropped to his chest again.

Claire couldn’t stop herself – she quietly asked the questions hanging around them in the air like tempting fruit, ripe for the picking. 

“Where were you, Jamie? Why had you not returned?”

She could sense that they were getting to the crux of things now and she thought that he seemed to be having trouble swallowing again. After a moment though, he declared with a unforgiving growl,

“Because I am a coward……….and God saw fit to punish me for my crimes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh! Jamie, as always, is such a man of honour and clearly feels that he's totally let his wife and child down. Was he really such a coward or is he being too hard on himself? hmm.... we'll find out more next chapter. The next chapter will take us up to Jamie's arrival to the cottage.
> 
> So pleased I've managed more of this story! It's all new to me so I'm trying to go with the flow...
> 
> I'm very grateful for the kind comments on the last chapter so thank you! 
> 
> If you think its a load of tat or have anything other than genuine constructive criticism do just keep on walking by...nothing to see here! :-D


	3. Not so fast, Fraser!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie has stormed off but Claire isn't giving up so easily - she knows Jamie hasn't told her everything...
> 
> Trigger warning - do be cautious reading...
> 
> Not a long chapter but this one takes us right up to the beginning of the first chapter posted.
> 
> I hope you enjoy....

Jamie stood up abruptly and with his Viking stride, headed off at pace back through the woods. Claire was still so caught up in his last words that he had already slipped from view by the time she had realised that he had upped and left. He clearly had no intention of letting her keep up with him.

Every fibre of Claire’s body told her that it was _not_ as simple as him staying away from his home because he was a coward.

Lonely? _Yes._

Grouchy? _God, yes!_

Proud? _For sure!_

But a coward? _No. Definitely not._

Claire had learnt through life that there are some people who simply carry an air of grace about themselves, no matter their current circumstance. That was Jamie; through and through – it permeated his being and he could no more hide it than he could his red curls. Jamie was an honourable man and no amount of persuasion would ever change Claire’s view. He had a natural presence and despite him acting the life of a loner, the truth was that he was a born leader of men. Lord Broch Turach, indeed! He could reject the birthright but not the heritage. There was more to this than Jamie was saying, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Without wasting another moment, she gathered up her skirts and headed for the trees, running to catch him up. _Not so fast, Fraser!_

****

Jamie strode with purpose, his traitorous back rubbing in his jacket. He had said too much already. He couldn’t bear telling the rest. The shame and desolation nearly forced him to cry out to the Heavens as he stalked, feeling his demons hurtling back towards him. This ever-lasting pain was his penance, he knew that. And most days he took his punishment with resignation but the anguish caused by the events of today; seeing the shock on their faces as his shirt ripped; Christ, the look on _her_ face…well, it was like a salted wound, rendered raw and exposed by her eyes alone. And so he had left. Again.

_Coward_ , his mind taunted him. He growled aloud as he walked, warning his mind not to piss about with him today.

Within a few more minutes, he reached the edge of the woods intent on making it back to his cottage. He had an appointment with a bottle. Claire caught up with him just as he turned at the wooded edge. Out of breath, she called out as best she could.

“Jamie!” It came out as a gasp.

“Jamie!” _That was better!_

He paid her no heed and carried on walking. Louder, she called,

“Jamie!” _God damn this man!_

She stood still and at the top of her voice, she bellowed,

“James Fraser, you stop right there or so help me God I’ll….!”

He had walked along the path as it hugged the tree line; at her outburst he had stopped. The tone she used was one that he hadn’t heard since he was a lad and his mother had caught him and his best friend, Ian Murray, sneaking out of the kitchen with the last few combs of the household’s honey in one set of hands; the last of the morning’s bannocks in the other. Every atom of his being knew to stop lest he be on the receiving end of a determined woman’s ire!

Still heaving her lungs as she walked, Claire stomped around him to look him dead on, although he still wouldn’t meet her eye. “James Fraser, don’t you _dare_ walk away from me!” Her hand whacked him on the upper arm. It hadn’t hurt as such but he stumbled ever so slightly as the contact was so unexpected. His eyes momentarily widened in shock. Pointing her finger at him, she firmly told him,

“There is more to this story than you are telling me, James Fraser!”

She tried to calm herself – _no point scaring him off!_

“Now….I cannot begin to imagine how hard this is for you but you are going to finish telling me what happened! There is nothing you can tell me that will change how I fee…”

With that Jamie’s temper finally exploded. He bellowed,

“God dammit, woman! What do ye want from me?” 

Claire halted, taken aback by his retort. He had interrupted her, and she had no answer for him. This was on account of her being unable to stop staring at his vivid sea-blue eyes which for the first time since the incident with the crowd, were looking straight at her. She felt a tug in her wame; she couldn’t drag her eyes away from his. Seeing that she was lost for words, he carried on,

“What is it, eh? You want me tae tell you how not 2 hours into my journey, I fell of ma horse, as he threw a shoe ( _a simple shoe!_ ) an’ landed on some godforsaken tree root which ripped ma thigh open and broke my hand?”

He pointed his arm behind him as if it had happened close by. In disgust, he continued,

“How I lay unnoticed fir 2 days in a ditch, falling into fever before I was rescued ( _Ha!_ ), rescued by a _Sassenach_ redcoat by the name of Captain Jonathan Randall? That he held me against my will, tortured me and …..Is that enough fer ye?”

His face turned an ugly shade of red as he spat the next words out at her.

“Nothing I say will make ye change the way ye feel, eh? Well, Mistress Beauchamp, the truth o’ the matter is that as my wife and child lay with their life’s blood pouring out of their bodies; wondering where the hell I was; why I had betrayed them; why I had failed tae protect them, I was ignorant tae their disappointment, as I was busy being fucked by another man!”

He had ended up shouting those last words with no care for being overheard for once. But, Jamie was utterly startled with the jolting shock of having told her. In fact, his face looked every bit as shocked at the revelation as Claire’s did. He had never told a soul his story. Never uttered the truth of just why he hadn’t made it home to protect his family; why he had been away for so much longer than he had meant to be; what he had endured all those lost months. _Oh Dear God, what had he done?_

He hadn't been able to stop himself; Claire seemed to break down every last one of his defenses with great ease and he'd never been more terrified in his life. This was a mistake. No good could come from having uttered those words to her. A flock of birds took flight from the trees as if they too couldn’t stay around after such a heinous revelation. The terror of her leaving him forever and never seeing her again overwhelmed him. It seemed completely and utterly inevitable. 

She stayed; he left. His inner voice whispering _“Coward!”_


	4. A poison we have to purge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite sharing a really special moment, the past still needs addressing.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are beginning to get into Wentworth-type territory here so please do be careful reading it.
> 
> So this chapter picks up where the Prologue took us too...
> 
> Jamie felt Claire slowly part her lips and lick his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, in invitation. Was this truly happening? He was mesmerised by the experience. Their kisses continued, now accompanied by their arms around one another until finally, Jamie drew away; he took a moment to share the air with Claire as their mouths lay close, simply breathing, yet not touching.
> 
> “Thank you for trusting me, Jamie,” she whispered, hoarse from the kiss.
> 
> Rising to his full height, Jamie steeled himself, opened his sea blue eyes and met Claire’s piercing amber gaze. 
> 
> Hope.
> 
> He saw it there in her beautiful whiskey eyes. They held the promise of a safe future together. He was alone no more. Claire made him a man again. He would not let her down and he would not leave.

**********************

**Music: The Pretenders - I’ll Stand by You**

******************

Jamie raised his hand and brushed some of those wonderful curls behind her ear. Realising in that moment that he had wanted to do so since the very first time he had seen her. It felt so natural and effortless.

“Christ, to touch you, Lass….!” 

She shivered as her breath left her body. God, it was thrilling to hear him talk that way. Meanwhile, Jamie could not help but marvel at how his large hand made this strong woman’s face look so delicate and fragile as she looked up at him with hooded eyes. _Sorcha_. _Light_.

Never leaving her warm gaze, his hands took hold of both cheekbones, his thumbs grazing her temples, and tilted her face slowly up towards him, as he lowered his lips to meet hers. The touch of which turned Claire once again to liquid, and she moved her hands from his chest, to caress his chin; his stubble; his jaw. He moaned deeply and she felt her stomach clench as if she had jumped from a great height. _Jesus H Roosevelt Christ! Did he know what he did to her with those noises?_

They remained joined this way, exploring one another’s mouths; both enchanted by the feel of the other’s soft and wanting lips. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, as they deepened the kiss, both wanting to lose themselves in the other; both coming to realise that what it was between them was…different. Their mouths eventually broke apart to catch their breath; overwhelmed by the feeling of being in one another’s arms. Keen to not lose their connection though, they rested their foreheads together. 

If, when it was all said and done, _this_ was the only moment in time she could have with him, she would take it. She knew she was jeopardizing everything by making her next request but, she had to know and Jamie, whether he realised it or not; whether he _believed_ it or not, needed her to know too. Risking it all, she steeled herself to speak the ten words she knew she had to.

“Jamie, you need to finish telling me about Randall now.” She felt him bristle, as she knew he would. His eyes closed and a long sigh left his body.

“He is a poison we have to purge, Jamie! He has already had far too long inside, dragging your soul down; you have to do this!”

Gently, she continued,

“Tell me what happened after Randall found you in the ditch. I need to hear it; all of it. I’ll…I’ll grieve with you; I’ll rage with you; I’ll _be_ with you. And when it is has all been said, I will _still_ be here, right beside you.” 

Jamie sighed and then, opening his eyes, he turned away, facing the fire again. She could see those oak-solid shoulders clenched and his head bobbing up and down; side to side as he searched for a way to voice his fear. 

“…I’m afraid, Claire… If I’m honest……I’m utterly petrified.” His voice became hoarse as the shame he felt escaped him. Claire sought to reassure him but as he turned back to her, a sad smile appeared on his face and he explained,

“I’ve lost everyone, Claire. In…in the end I…. I always let them doon. Always. The thought o’ findin’ you…only to lose you… I just dinnae think my heart could take it, Claire. No more.”

“Then _trust_ me, Jamie, as you did before! _Trust_ me! We must do this. Please…let me help you heal!”

And in that moment, he did; he trusted her. The truth was that he was so weary from the weight of it all. Nothing could be worse than these last 10 years, alone, surely? It was time to stop being the coward he felt he had let himself become these many years past. A stoic man by nature; it had never been an easy skin for him to fill but the guilt and desolation left by that decision to not turn back, …well, it held him fast.

But now, he walked hesitantly over to his chair and sat down; it creaked under the sudden weight, accompanied by a loud crack from the fire. He found himself resigned to the fact that she was right; he had to tell her all the last sorry details of the story. He could only hope that in the telling he would find salvation.

Everything around him, from Claire to the very cottage itself, seemed to be holding its breath waiting for him to begin.

****************

**_Flashback_ **

Jamie had thought that once their child had been born that Annalise would feel more settled here in Scotland. Unfortunately, if anything, she appeared to feel even more caged than she had before. The few years that they had been together, here at Lallybroch, had gradually eroded away much of the affection with which they had held one another, exposing their relationship to be the youthful infatuation it had only ever been. Being Lady Broch Turach was not proving to be the pleasure, nor bring the status, that Annalise had thought it might. This was not how Jamie had seen his married life playing out. However, Annalise doted on their boy, at least, as did Jamie and so they had remained together, both resigned to their commitment to one another, taking joy in seeing their bonnie wee lad growing up at least. Only occasionally did this agreement break down.

Annalise had got up that morning quite clearly sullen. They had not shared a bed for many a month now and from the moment she saw Jamie, everything he said or did over breakfast was pulled apart, like a vulture on carrion. She picked at him for everything – he had found that she always got like this before he left Lallybroch on business, clearly resenting the freedom his gender gave him. The knowing did not make it any easier to endure though.

He tried to engage Willie in some talk about the coming day, but Annalise kept interrupting. Jamie’s impatience was evident through his clenched jaw, which Annalise would have seen had she been inclined to look at him today, but he sought to calm himself by entertaining Willie. He was 4 years old with chestnut brown hair and the same beautiful Fraser eyes graced his face, as did his father’s. It made Jamie recall his own mother’s face and he saw her radiating out through Willie’s eyes. Jamie was always struck by just how vivid a blue those eyes were, with that strong black line surrounding the iris. They were like beautiful deep lakes and he would find himself lost in them regularly when they had time together. He was enchanted by his son. Jamie saw, with pride, that Willie had also inherited a mischievous twinkle in his eye, Just like his Da. _Ma boy_. Jamie’s heart was fit to bursting whenever he caught the lad unawares; he would turn to Jamie, look at him and smile like sunlight.

Deciding that he had had enough of the high-pitched whining coming from his wife, he nabbed another bannock and with a wink to Willie, he mumbled something about readying his horse, Donas. Donas was a fine beast but he would not allow anyone to get near him except Jamie. He was a vengeful horse, Donas, but Jamie kept him in tow, most of the time. Of course, it turned out that today would not be one of those days.

Later, that morning, with his horse loaded up, Jamie made to set off. He had already said his goodbyes to Willie and Mrs Crook, the latter having tucked a few extra bread chunks and some more cheese into his bag. He was hardly wasting away; but try telling that to Mrs Crook who had known him since he was young lanky lad!

“I shall be gone fir a week, Annalise. I’ll sort the root cellar shelvin’ when I return.” Jamie busied himself in a bid to avoid friction between them. Annalise had no such qualms.

“And I suppose I am to remain here and keep your house for you! Waiting patiently for your return? Non?!” Her French accent growing stronger as she became more agitated.

“There are many jobs that I need you to do here at home, Jamie. Why do you need to go on your foolish trip now? C’est ridicule! _It’s ridiculous!_ The stable roof eez leaking and you simply ride off wizout a care for me left behind! Dieu, comme j’aurais aimé que tu perde ce putain de duel! _God, how I wish you had lost that damn duel!_ ” Her French distain evident in those last few words. 

There was no talking to her when she was like this and hearing her words echoing his own dark thoughts sat ill with him. Jamie climbed upon Donas, clicked his tongue, and never took a second glance back at what would have been the last time he would see his wife alive.

Not 2 hours into his journey, it was clear to Jamie that much like his wife, Donas had woken up in a particularly difficult mood. He pulled at the reins regularly and Jamie was expelling much energy and focus on keeping him in line. It was just a shame that he could not leave Donas behind, as he had done Annalise! Jamie emitted a derisory snort at the thought.

As the proverb goes, _pride goeth before a fall._ Jamie had never thought he would have practical experience of this particular adage but distracted for that moment, in admiration of his own wit, Jamie never noticed Donas’ disobedience coming that one last time. Suddenly, it was too late, and they were both thrown by the shoe that became dislodged by an ill-placed rock, jutting surreptitiously from the ground. Jamie felt instant pain all over; he felt his hand break; his upper left leg felt like fire had spread through it; and as his damaged head caused him to fall into unconsciousness, his last thought was, “Tha mi a ’dol a mharbhadh an each diabhal sin! _I am going to kill that devil horse!_ ”

Cold, hungry, numb. These would be Jamie’s vague recollections of the 2 days he spent alone lying in that ditch, falling in and out of consciousness. By far, the worst of the injuries was to his thigh, which he could no longer feel. He would realise later that he had a gaping slash across it where his fall had caused an exposed root to gouge a new path that lead from a few inches about his knee, to near enough his groin. What had saved him was the fact that he had fallen on to his front and the angle that he lay at, with his bag trapped under him had stopped the wound from losing too much blood. It had not been enough to stave off an inflammation though, and he surely would not have made it through another night had he not been spotted by a particular Captain of Dragoons, Jonathan Randall, riding past. 

Captain Randall had a fearsome reputation in this part of Scotland and Jamie had heard of ‘Black Jack’ Randall and his sinister behaviour; people disappearing, never to be heard of again; unduly heavy consequences for rules broken, but had been fortunate enough not to cross paths with him. Until now. Much to Jamie’s continuing horror, they would share far more than a crossing of paths in the coming months. 

Randall was on his way to his monthly triste at the Duke of Sandringham’s Scottish residence. They were unlikely bedfellows, but Sandringham served as sufficient cover for Randall and his…particular tastes. His horse, Potens, had carried him swiftly from his garrison however, their pace had slowed as they neared their destination and it was this that caused Randall’s eye to spot those red curls and the Nordic god attached to them in the undergrowth.

Jamie was quite delirious with fever when Randall found him. His memories of those many hours were vague and fleeting but he recalled being held in a strong pair of arms; his hair being gently brushed from his face; a comforting voice, even, reassuring him that all was well and he would be looked after. He later recalled being carried to a big comfortable bed and for a time, his comfort allowed his brain to rest, no longer required for now. 

This was swiftly overturned late one evening. Jamie had been having what seemed like some rather strange dreams during his more comatosed moments in this place. It had been a number of days he thought (maybe a week?) that he had been here. He recalled in his more lucid moments, a young girl, who had tended to him. He would later learn that she was Mary Hawkins, goddaughter of Sandringham. A timid little beast, she had seemed scared and ill at ease in Jamie’s presence, no matter how harmless he tried to sell himself. A smell like incense was ever present now though and Jamie had been left feeling uneasy and…handled.

During his dreams, he had felt many hands over his body. It had been sometime since he had laid with his wife and the touch of a soft hand was pleasing. He felt the cover being pulled back and the hand this time caressed his pecs and rubbed at his nipples. Jamie shivered with pleasure as the hand moved to his muscular stomach, and then down. His lucidity had changed this time though and he came to the very abrupt realisation that this was no dream. Jamie’s right hand grabbed the offending limb and he shot open his eyes. To his horror, he came face to face with the glassy-eyed stare of the Duke of Sandringham, leaning over him, whose look had turned from shock to terror when Jamie’s left hand had then grabbed at his throat.

Sandringham gave out a strangled shriek. His height over Jamie, who had been lying horizontal, gave him the leverage he needed to get Jamie off him. He stumbled away as Jamie lunged for him again. His weakness by this point saved Sandringham as he had not the strength to get up and follow the Duke.

The Duke would not visit Jamie again in the months that he was kept here. Nor would Jamie be left at ease. When he awoke from the next hazy dream, he had been moved to the basement and was shackled in chains. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How dare the DoS touch our Jamie!! Randall makes a return next chapter....


	5. One Last Turn of the Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heartbreaking truth of what happened with Randall...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter finally takes us through what happened to Jamie at the mercy of Randall.
> 
> We really are truly getting well into Wentworth territory now so please read with caution or avoid completely and just read the last section after the flashback. you can just tell yourself that "Ok, Shit happens at the hands of Randall!" 
> 
> It's a long chapter too! I had to add the little bit of them back at the cottage too otherwise it was SO dark. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this one. Well, you know what I mean when I say enjoy....
> 
> ooh, also, I've slightly tweaked the name of the story to make it "A tiny Shoot of Hope."

_**Flashback on** _

Not seeing the outside world was the hardest part…at the start, at least. Being unable to follow the passing of the sun and moon made the hours; the days; the weeks; and in the end, the months impossible to follow. Unsurprisingly, that made the living hell all the more real and inescapable.

Jamie had been down in the basement for about a week. Mary would bring food and drink for him each day but always stayed as far away from him as possible and left as soon as she could. Not for the first time, he thought it rather rich that she was scared of him seeing as _he_ was the one in here; tied to the wall like an animal. She never spoke to him and in those moments he would trade the silence for Annalise’s griping, in a heartbeat. _How the hell had he ended up like this?_ The waiting was the worst. He wished that they would hurry up and get on with it whatever _this_ was – it wouldn’t be long until that rash thought was struck permanently from his mind though. He could never have imagined…

Usually a furnace of body heat, the days and days in the dank cellar had finally cut through to Jamie’s bones and he was cold. It was almost as if the ominous all-encompassing stench of the horrific unknown was actively spreading through his body. Jamie hadn’t seen his clothes since he’d fallen off his horse. He lay on a hard wooden cot now with only a thin quilt providing any covering for his body, let alone his dignity. The room was bare and the stone walls cold. The cot; a table; a chair and a bucket in the corner; nothing else except for the whispers of horrors past, like a vacuum. 

Randall finally made his appearance and with him came a flagon of wine and a cat o’nine tails whip curled in his hand. This cruel weapon was made of a material like tarred string and had knots along each of the nine tails’ lengths. Being thin strands, such as they were, each one tended to cut open the skin when wielded; a particularly nasty implement.

Jamie had never seen a flogging but an old man had passed through once, when Jamie was a lad and he had spied the quiet man bathing in the river, the man’s back was full of divots and caverns spreading from left to right; and at awkward angles. It had given Jamie a great shock when he had first seen it and had left him with nightmares for weeks after the man left, imagining the raging monsters that must have caused the damage.

Randall strode into the room as if it was his working office and he came in here every day. Not yet looking at Jamie, who was huddled in the cot, under the small quilt; the iron chains making his ankles ache; impossible to get comfortable in; watching Randall’s every move through his red curls. Randall set the flagon of wine on the table in the corner of the room, and carefully placed the bound whip next to it, treating it as if it were a prized possession worthy of veneration.

Dressed in his Army reds, Randall looked every bit the gentleman he purported to be. From the impeccable shine on his boots; the heavy weight of his jacket; the smooth shape of his restrained dark hair; and the gleaming white of his shirt and stock. Only a steely cold glint in his eyes, coupled with a gaze of fascination at his ‘guest’ contradicted the complete look. 

Randall pulled out the chair, sat himself down in it, being sure to flick his coat tails up behind and elegantly crossing his legs, he studied the large lump laying still in the bed; only a faint rise and fall of the chest showing movement. Confident that Jamie was indeed awake, he spoke to him as if they were two gentleman of equal standing, engaged in a genial conversation. Of course, in every way they _were_ both of equal standing; but for the fact that at this precise moment, one was chained and naked; and the other was not. 

“You really are the most exquisite creature, you know.” Randall began.

“When I saw you lying there, in the ditch, I couldn’t believe my luck. Do you remember it?”

Randall asked much like a lover might shyly ask his partner something intimate. He didn’t wait for an answer.

“I thought you were dead to begin with. Now _that_ would have been a great shame. We are going to have a memorable time here together, my boy. I can promise you that.”

Randall shifted in his chair, and Jamie’s heart forgot to beat in that moment. He hadn’t blinked the entire time that Randall had been talking and now he had a feeling of dread beginning to crawl all over him; he was beginning to see where this was heading. Randall stood up and slowly picked up the whip, unfurling it as he moved to the opposite side of the room. He gave a slow, throaty chuckle as he carried on talking.

“ _This_ is one of my favourite parts, you know? The beginning.”

Letting his eye travel over that of Jamie’s body that he could see, Randall stalked the room like a hunter. His voice sounding distant as he whispered,

“So full of anticipation. Can you feel it? I know you can. You’re terrified….and just a little bit curious.”

That chuckle again and then more whispers.

“We are going to create a masterpiece together, Jamie; a work of art; it’s going to be pure theatre….and it will stay with us both until the end of our days. If you are….compliant, you may just make it out of here….if you survive.”

This fiend damn near scared Jamie’s hair white, where he lay. He would be damned if he was going to give this maniac the satisfaction of seeing it though. Whatever was thrown at him, Jamie would take it all.

Randall leaned himself again the wall still out of reach of Jamie. He softly requested,

“Now then, my boy, stand up and lean your hands against that wall.”

He pointed with the handle of the whip, to where he wanted Jamie to go.

Jamie, still not having moved for a single moment of Randall’s time in the room, remained motionless. _Try an’ make me ye red-backed Sassenach!_

Randall stood completely still, knowing how this would play out; they _always_ resisted him in the beginning. The breaking them was such joy. He stood up straight, away from the wall, clasping one hand with the other behind his back, never losing his grip on the whip; its rough feel in his hands already rousing him when he thought about the glorious colours he was going to see appear on that wonderful smooth back, in the coming weeks. He took a few steps and then stopped.

“James Fraser, Lord Broch Turach. Tell me, how was your lovely French wife when you left?”

Jamie immediately felt the bile rise from his stomach. Whatever he’d expected Randall to say, it hadn’t been that. _How had he known who Jamie was? Had he given up the information during those early days?_ Jamie had come to realise in his week here in the basement that the odd smell of incense in his room, upstairs, was most likely opium and those confusing and overwhelming dreams he had had where as a result of it. He could have given anything up in those days and would never have known it. Randall could see Jamie’s brain turning the information over. He continued to provoke,

“I should imagine that she’ll be wondering where you are by now? Perhaps I should pay her a visit. Show her a real welcome to our pleasant isle. Of course, there’s your boy too. Willie.”

Randall looked wistful and smiled into the distance as if imagining….God knows what dreadful notion. Jamie’s finally moved at this and as Randall had known he would, Jamie had slowly stood to his full height, holding the quilt around his lower half, keeping what little dignity he had left for as long as he could. In a low rumble, he stated,

“You stay away from my boy, an’ his mother…

Randall waited for the bargain he knew Jamie would offer.

….and you can have me. Take me instead.”

Family men; they were always so easy to play, Randall thought with revulsion. This would only be the opening move though. They always thought they could endure him for the love of their families. He laughed derisorily inside; it never lasted. _Did they see that it weakened them; left them vulnerable?_ But he sensed something ironlike in Fraser. _Perhaps a worthy opponent this time?_ He nodded to show his agreement.

“You have my word as a gentleman. Make free of your body to me and I will leave your family unharmed.”

With a slow nod, Jamie clenched his jaw and turned to the wall, away from Randall. As he reached his hands up to brace himself, the cover fell, and with it, his last shred of dignity was lost too. Randall smiled to himself and slowly walked towards him, shaking the whip out as he moved.

***

The first few times were the same nightmare played over and over. Randall would take his whip to Jamie’s back; he would deliver 15-20 lashes; Jamie would make no sound; but Randall would clearly take pleasure in the red devastation he opened up with each swipe. In fact, judging by the sounds coming from behind Jamie when the lashes would finish, taking his pleasure was exactly what Randall was doing. Randall would leave and Jamie would be left alone, shaking with agony. Randall would not return for what Jamie guessed was about 4-5 days, but Mary would come to dress his raw wounds and feed him – she clearly had experience of doing so, convincing Jamie that he was far from the first poor soul to inhabit this prison-like cell. The ill-fated girl was clearly just as traumatised as he was becoming. 

About 3 weeks into this spectacle, Randall turned the ratchet further. Now that he had Jamie in a more _compliant_ position, he felt that it was time to take a little more. Constantly prompting Jamie with his veiled threats towards his family, he began to toy with Jamie’s own body. Much to his shame, Jamie’s body would betray him at Randall’s touch, not seeming to care that it was a vile monster indulging. This monster would rouse him time and again but never allow him release. It was ultimately more pain to add to his ruined back. A pain that was gradually breaking him down.

As Randall knew would happen, Jamie’s resolve finally broke. He had lasted longer than most. He knew his back was a forever ruined mess and that he would carry Randall’s work for the rest of his days. Jamie found himself both so astonishingly tired and yet extremely aroused at the exactly the same time. The truth was that he had been slowly drowning in an ocean of pain and distress. Eventually, he couldn’t help himself grabbing onto that tiny raft of pleasure and clinging to it for dear life.

This time, Randall hadn’t hurt him first; the whip hadn’t appeared. He seemed to have a different notion this time. He very quickly rid himself of his own clothes, careful to lay them meticulously over the chair and sat next to Jamie who was laid on his side, turned away from Randall, lost in his own misery. Randall drew out a small vial of oil; it smelt of lavender; it was a smell that Jamie had never cared for anyway and now it would forever draw him back to this very moment, whenever it would occur.

Randall rubbed the oil sensually over his hands and then used them to delicately sweep back the hair from Jamie’s face. He’d enacted this move many times with others; never had it given him so much rigid pleasure though. It had taken much longer to break this strong Viking specimen but it had been worth it. Despite the weeks of ill treatment casting away some of Jamie’s bulk, he still cut a striking image, especially when contrasted with his current helpless situation. Randall slowly brought himself down behind Jamie on the bed, careful not to touch his back, still so raw, lest it break the spell. He swept the hair from where Jamie’s shoulder and neck met and kissed him gently. Jamie lay staring into some unknown place trying to be anywhere but here; if not in body; then at least in mind.

Randall had other ideas though and he gently drew his hand down and across Jamie’s shoulder; feathering his arm with his fingers and around the flat expanse of his lower torso. Try as he might Jamie couldn’t help but let out a small, slow moan, his head lifting and falling backwards onto Randall’s shoulder, as a hand cupped him and began to stroke. Randall brought his mouth close to Jamie’s ear and whispered,

“I want you to enjoy yourself, now… by your own hand.”

Unable to resist; broken down through weeks of _so much pain_ and a small part of him still believing that this was his desperate attempt to keep his family safe, Jamie reached his hand down to where Randall’s was and joined him. Randall confirmed in a melodious tone, as he lifted his own hand away for other duties, 

“You’re mine now, my boy; mine! I’m going to take you to places you’ve never been!”

In that moment, Jamie didn’t care what Randall said or did, as long as the pleasurable escape didn’t stop. He’d say anything, or do anything for Randall in this moment. Readying Jamie behind with his fingers, Randall gently guided himself inside and it was the most exquisite feeling he had ever had. To know that no one had ever been in this place within Jamie before; to tame this wild, striking highlander and to reduce him to little more than wet clay in his hands made Randall hard as oak and slowly he began to move inside Jamie. To hear a small gasp escaping Jamie only served to heighten Randall’s arousal.

Much to his twisted joy, Jamie responded as they all did at this point; with increasing abandon. Randall felt Jamie begin to move his own hips, opening himself to each thrust. Lost in the moment, they forged an unforgettable synchronicity and to their horror and surprise, the pleasure they shared brought them both to the edge of the abyss; they jumped off together, and came. Both men cried out at the intensity of the feelings and in that moment, there was no denying that they were as one.

No sooner had they come down from this indescribable high though, and Jamie’s senses gradually returned to him; the incomprehensible shock at what he had just done left him stunned and utterly motionless. His insides felt like they were being constricted and he stared ahead, into a dark corner of the room, trying to understanding what had just happened and how the hell it had come to this!

****

Randall stayed away for a longer time now. This had given Jamie’s back a little longer to start healing; the repair to his soul though, well, that would take a much longer time to heal. When Randall eventually returned, he had a glint of malice in his eye unlike anything Jamie had seen before. He could hardly contain himself it seemed. Unable to suppress his excitement, fleeting smiles would slip from his mouth on regularly occasion, as he sought to find the words to adequately express his news. Kneeling on the bed behind Jamie, he teased,

“Well, my boy, I heard some very sad news as I was travelling here these last few days.”

He clearly had one last turn of the knife of torture to deliver to Jamie. He leaned in close to Jamie’s ear; beyond control, the fear and disgust that Jamie felt caused him to tightly close his eyes, and in a mean whisper Randall said,

“Oh yes, very sad news. It seems that Lady Broch Turach and her son were set upon by two murderous beasts, whilst her husband was away from home. No one knows where he is – it would seem that he had abandoned them and now….well, now it’s too late. They’re gone.”

In that moment, Jamie felt his entire world shrink to black with the only pin point left being Randall’s piercing words.

“Just think, my boy. As your wife and son lay dying in the dirt, their throats cut; wondering why you had failed them, I was deep inside you, filling you with my seed, until I spilled over…and you …couldn’t…get…enough of it.”

Randall seemed elated at the thought.

“As they lay there dying, your thoughts were not of them, but the pleasure that _my_ body was delivering you. You failed them, my boy, and you abandoned them…for your own… _hungry…_ pleasure.” 

The truth of Randall’s words hit Jamie like a sledgehammer and with it a cloak of shame fell, so dark and tremendous that it would block out the sunlight for many, many years to come. As Randall, left the room, smirking to himself, he halted just outside the door. Then, he heard it; a slow wail emitting from Jamie. It grew ever louder until it broke into sobs filled with complete and utter anguish. As he walked away the conqueror, he thought about how _this_ was his second favourite part; the moment when they finally broke, having realised that they had abandoned their loved ones for simple carnal gratification. 

It would be many months until the horror of Randall’s abuse would eventually become a past event. What should have been relief saw anything but. The damage had been done and to have survived it; to have not ultimately succumbed to death, seemed like a fitting atonement for Jamie’s self-proclaimed crimes.

**Flashback ends**

***************

Fire has the most magical qualities. You can waste hours staring into each unique moment of flame. Such beauty and endless fascination; coupled with danger and destruction. Jamie had spent most of his horror story leaning against the hearth, having been unable to remain still in the chair for long; his strong arms spread across the mantel; staring into the past through the flames of the fire.

As his tale ended, he stood motionless. For that brief moment, he was no longer concerned with Claire’s reaction. It was simply an extraordinary feeling having voiced his trauma. He wasn’t quite sure the best way to describe how he felt exactly, but it wasn’t the calamity that he had always feared it might be. He almost felt…weightless. Like he had been Atlas, carrying the burden of the world around on his back, only to now have gravity cease to affect him. Perhaps it was just the novelty of such an experience that made him so aware of it. One thing he suspected though was that this feeling of relief wouldn’t last.

Finally, Claire spoke; the disbelief of what he had been through making her throat dry up somewhat,

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, Jamie! I…I don’t know what...That must have been so awful for you.”

To have her put voice to her own shock at what he had told her pulled Jamie up short and when he saw the look of despair etched on her face and in her eyes, the brief respite he’d had burst. To see such pain in her eyes and to know that once again, he had caused such heartache in a loved one, _yes a loved one, for he did love her, honestly and completely,_ threatened to undo him again.

He walked around the room like a caged animal and found himself standing by the wall; his forehead leaning against it seeking solace. Turning around to lean his weight on the solid structure, he brought his fist up to the centre of his chest, and tried to explain how Randall had truly broken him. He hit his chest as he spoke haltingly,

“It wisnae sae much whit Randall did tae me that caused sae much damage, Claire. It wis,….”

His resolve stumbled.

“Go on….” Claire whispered.

“It wis...” The horror was before him again but this time he soldiered on. Swallowing he carried on,

“It wis whit Randall showed me about ma self that did the damage. Claire….it wis like he shone a torch intae the dark corners o’ ma soul….showed me things a never knew; things a wid never hae believed aboot ma self. An’ then, tae find oot that Willie and Annalise were…..that a’d failed tae protect them, whilst…” 

At this, his knees slowly gave way like a crumbling dam and he fell to the floor utterly crushed. Immediately, Claire rushed to his side, her own heart painfully throbbing at the sad figure her Viking cast.

“Oh, my love! My love! I’m here! I’m here! Please don’t hide away from me, Jamie. I swear to you; I _swear_ that I will never leave you. I won’t!”

Claire pleaded with him to believe her. She fell to her knees in front of him and clutched his legs, looking up with urgency in her eyes.

After a time, Jamie lifted his head and Claire could see him begin to falter again as the tender moments that they had shared were in danger of passing and being lost to them both; she watched the doubt and fear cross his face once more. It was like the dark cloud was descending again; the mask was about to be forced back in place and with all her aching heart, she couldn’t bear it. Neither could he it seemed, as he slowly lifted his head, climbed back up off of the floor and facing away from her, he looked out of the window.

Claire raised herself up and moved to face him again. Grabbing hold of his upper arms tightly, she looked pleadingly at him; shook him ever so slightly where he stood and searched his face for reassurance. He dropped his chin to his chest, this movement of shame she had seen repeatedly in him, and then, he spoke,

“Claire, I….”

“Jamie.” She interrupted him in panicked desperation. Her heart felt like it was in her mouth.

Calming herself she repeated, “Jamie…… I want you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Struggling to meet her eye again, she cupped his cheek and chin and lifted them until he looked at her. He met her eye and gave a curt nod. Tenderly, she reassured him,

“I know your heart, Jamie; I _know_ your heart and I am telling you here and now that _nothing_ you could ever tell me; not this, not anything, will ever make me love you any less!” Jamie was stunned to hear this incredible woman, who had made him feel like he was basking in sunlight again, from the moment he had met her, say that she loved him too.

“I will walk into the depths of hell with you, Jamie; I will stay with you in whatever darkness you exist in; I …I hope you won’t think me too bold but, ….I want to spend the rest of my life right here, ….with you. I will walk beside you through your living hell if necessary, every day for the rest of our lives, if you’ll let me. It will be _you_ and _me_ against the world, my dear love. Neither one of us will be alone again.”

She felt the slightest hesitation in him still and with tears in her eyes she continued to plead with him,

“Don’t shut me out Jamie, please! I don’t think I could bear it! I don’t think I could carry on if you won’t have me, Jamie!” _If he wouldn’t have her?_ It tore at his very soul to see her so wretched and fearful. Bravely she continued,

“I……I’ve seen darkness too. I’ve….I’ve done things I _too_ am ashamed to admit, but I’ll share it all with you, Jamie; you can have it _all,_ if it helps you heal; if it helps you see that you are mine; … _you are mine_ and we are meant to be together!”

She could see how torn he was; one second his eyes glistened at her words; the next she saw fear and doubt and so it continued over and over. He slowly drew himself out of her arms and turned to look at the fire again, burning in the hearth, clutching his stomach as she had seen him do by the water’s edge earlier. Again, he slowly lowered his head into his chest.

When Jamie had listened to Claire’s words, he had felt a million different things at once but the beacon of them all was hearing her saying that she loved him; that she wanted him; that she couldn’t bear to carry on without him. It called to his very soul. There was still just one worrying thought that he could not shift though and resigned to voicing it, he spoke it aloud,

“How can you have me like _this_?” 

In the telling of his story, whilst he had had a brief moment of relief, the reality was that he had never felt so small and weak. He felt so…damaged. And the shame threatened to engulf him again.

Without hesitation, she went to him and cupping his strong solid face in her hands; her eyes full of tears, as one solitary drop overflowed down her right cheek, she lifted his head to hers and passionately told him,

“I will have you anyway I can…always!” 

In that moment, she cast away the very last of the fear; and the loneliness; and the rage; and the shame. Like the scars on his back, the sorrow of having lost so much would never fully leave him. However, her love for Jamie utterly dazzled him. He lifted back his shoulders, climbed to his full height for a moment and seeing the truth in her eyes, he smiled until his beautiful blue eyes sparkled and reached out for his future, wrapping his strong arms around her. He pulled her close, with firm resolve, the hesitation gone and nuzzled his face into those wonderful curls around her neck.

Claire’s relief crashed around her like breaking waves and she finally broke down as he held her close. It was his turn to support her. They sank to the floor in front of the hearth, never breaking contact and there they remained for the rest of the evening; a tangle of limbs entwined with one another; Claire grabbing tighter any moment she felt him move. Both of them thinking that they’d never be ready to let go of the other; independently swearing an oath to God that they would never allow circumstance to require them to do so, whilst there was breath in their body.


	6. A Hint of Flirtation...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The real world returns and breaks their bubble. The feelings between them are building up...

Jamie couldn’t say how long they had sat there together in front of the warming fire, holding on to one another, but he suddenly realised that the light had now faded outside and in fact, the fireplace was in danger of doing so soon too. He knew that people would talk if it was discovered that they had spent time like this, but the pleasure of having such a soft and beautiful creature in his arms after so long with them being empty was making it extremely hard for him to care right at this moment. Even before the horror of Randall and all that he and Sandringham had put Jamie through, the truth was that Annalise and he had lost their desire to touch one another a long time before he was taken and it was near impossible to remember the last time he had been blessed with such a wonderful experience.

All through those 10 years that he had been back, there had never been a single moment of gentle, soothing contact. For as long as he could remember, there was only violence. When he had returned, his tenants no longer thought of him as their laird; it was an honour that Jamie felt he had destroyed; respect ruined and thus he never pursued the matter; in fact, he’d barely even returned to Lallybroch at all, preferring instead to take up in this old croft. The contempt and revulsion they felt was never hidden and in the early months after his return, there had only been brawls and loathing; both Jamie and his tenants seething with anger at the grim consequences of his betrayal of his family. To his tenants though, he had simply been a coward and a disappointment to both his name and them. Only Jamie felt he had the true understanding of all that had happened and how truly deserving he had been of their wrath. 

But now, to hold this incredible woman in his arms; it humbled and moved him beyond words and he could feel his soul awaken and his body stir for the first time since…forever; and _never_ had it done so in this deep and profound way. She was warm; soft; smooth. She smelt….fresh, like the forest; there was a hint of chamomile in her hair; and the sweat he must have caused her to form, when he stormed away from her by the water, was lingering. Christ! She’d looked glorious when she had stomped around him at the wood’s edge having bellowed his name. He had noticed even in spite of the enduring trauma that had been exposed. Jamie smiled and chuckled when he recalled how flushed and cross, she had been when she finally caught up with him.

Feeling him shake, Claire stirred in his arms; she had fallen asleep a short while before and when he looked down at her to make sure that she hadn’t woken up, he was convinced that she was some kind of perfect angel, unexpectedly here in his arms. The arc of those stunning dark lashes that usually framed her unique eyes swept themselves in a way that captivated Jamie and he spent more happy moments just reveling in them. 

As if she could feel his adoration radiate onto her, Claire awoke and opened her eyes, finding a vast sea of blue looking down at her. Meanwhile, the catch of the fire in her eyes lit them up golden, like the afternoon sun on a crisp Autumn day. One stray curl caressed her face and Jamie raised one of his hands to gently guide it away, all the while smiling as he lost himself in her loving stare.

“Good evenin’, mo ghaol. _My love._ ” He said, his voice sounding so different to her.

She soon realised that she had never heard him speak with a joyful tone before; tender and husky. He had always been so brusque and dismissive. It was like a wave washed over her, when she heard it; a wave so full of love, it took her breath momentarily away. If this moment lasted forever; she’d be quite content.

“Good evening.” She happily replied back to him, all the while her face beaming.

“I’m sorry, it is late. I…er…I think it best if we remain here fir the night, given the events o’ this mornin’ in the town. People are no thinkin’ too favourably o’ me just at the moment. Ye can take the bed an’ I’ll sleep by the hearth.” 

He rushed on, ensuring that he offered her a safer option, should she prefer it.

“O’ course, I can walk ye home now, if ye wid rather. The choice is yours……Claire.” He said her name with such revelry, as if he was testing it out; it still being so new on his tongue. 

Claire took herself out of Jamie’s arms and stood up. He followed her lead, giving her space to compose her answer by slowly climbing up, convinced she’d want to return home. Claire watched him rise like one of the tall sunflowers she found in her garden during the summer months; unfurling before her eyes and when he looked at her she felt that tug in her stomach, and lower down too. In a gentle but confident voice she reassured him,

“Jamie, I meant it; I am not leaving you and I…”

She took a step towards him and raised her hand to his chest again, still clad in only his jacket. After caressing it slightly through the fabric, she looked up at him, swallowed and carried on, 

“…I want to be with you. Always.”

The effect of her standing so close to Jamie was unbelievably powerful; he felt a stirring in his trousers. Feeling her poised so close to him had Jamie fighting every impulse of his body to grab hold of her and satisfy the deep longing for her that he had. He should not do that though; she was not yet his to have. Yes, they had declared their mutual feelings for one another, but he was trying his hardest to honour her and do things right, this time. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him though.

“Christ, Claire! I want ye too…. Christ, how I want ye…. I can scarcely believe how today has changed everythin’ fir us. I never thought I wid ever be able tae leave the hell that I found mysel’ in these 10 years past. Never thought I would be granted the right tae hold another wie such affection an’ adoration in my arms. But here ye are…”

He lit up the room with his smile and as his eyes sparkled, he slid his arms down Claire’s and took hold of each of her elegant hands in his own. Looking down at them, he carried on,

“Ye told me earlier that I am yours, an’ that we are meant tae be together. Did ye truly mean that?”

As he spoke this crucial question, his eyes left her hands and he looked so intensely at her that she felt him and all he was reach deep into her heart and soul as if he was liquid. Without hesitation, she whispered,

“You know I did.”

Jamie smiled and lifting her hands in front of them both, he continued,

“Well in that case…Mistress Beauchamp, I wonder if ye wid do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

He could see that he had taken her by beautiful surprise; she was not expecting him to ask such a thing in this moment and yet his resolve was absolute; this was where their future lay. Together. His eyes never left hers as he lifted her hands and gently kissed her ring finger. Her heart shot to her throat as she felt his tongue very gently touch her skin, through his slightly parted lips; her knees felt suddenly weak. To see him command such confidence in himself was uplifting and, she couldn’t deny it; it did all manner of things to her stirring wame. Looking from one eye to the other across his face; her joy finally too strong to contain; her eyes glistened; and she beamed at him giving him her the answer,

“Yes…Mister Fraser, I will marry you. Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

Jamie’s eyes filled up too as a brief, delighted laugh burst out of him.

“I dinnae ken what I did to deserve ye, Claire. I’d truly given up all hope o’ every findin’ maself again in such a humble position but here ye are givin’ me another chance at happiness. Even in the finest moments wie…Annalise…it wisnae like this…I swear tae ye Claire, here an’ now, that I will spend my life honouring the love an’ trust ye’ve given me. I lay ma heart and soul at yer feet. It is yours firever, mo ghaol! Treat it as ye will; ma heart is yours…forever.”

And with this, he once more enveloped her in his solid embrace, holding one hand of hers by his heart and wrapping his other around her to keep her near, resting his cheek on her head. They would have stayed in this moment for a good while longer had a loud clap of thunder not caught them both unawares. Jamie jumped and reluctantly loosened his hold on Claire. He drew his eyes from her and walked suddenly over to the window, seeing that rain had begun to fall.

“Christ, the animals, I clean forgot! Claire can ye perhaps see tae getting some light sorted fir us. The candles are o’er there, in the corner.” He pointed absentmindedly as he gathered his thoughts towards the tasks that still needed doing, the reality of life finally breaking into their intimate moment. He reached for a lamp to take with him as he ventured out to close up the stable for the night, as quickly as possible now that a storm was upon them. _Thank Christ she’d already decided to remain here with him._

“There’s bread, cheese…well, ye’ll find things in the pantry fir us, if ye dinnae mind, Claire. I’ll away and see tae the goats…and my crabbit old sow!” Chuckling to himself, he admitted,

“I’ll be fir it tonight with that old besom! She willnae be happy that I’ve left her sae long wieoot grub! If I’m no back in 15 minutes, ye’ll ken she decided she couldnae wait any longer and has eaten me instead!” 

And with that, he was gone.

Claire looked around, wondering where to start; the sudden exit of her man, _yes; her man,_ leaving her happy but a little overwhelmed. What had he said to her? …. _Candles! Right, let’s get some light into the room._ With purpose, and an unexpected ease about the place, she soon had a number of additional light sources in the room. She took a moment to look around to see that whilst it was a very basic cottage, there were hints of the gentleman she knew Jamie to be, dotted around. A small shelf of books; one by his bed, left open at the page most recently read; the grand chest sat against the wall, too splendid for a crofter’s cottage; the fine candlesticks on the mantel.

Claire’s stomach grumbled as if to remind her of the second task Jamie had asked of her. In the pantry she found a small feast and laid it out beautifully on the table, feeling that the occasion warranted the extravagance. She found bread, cheese, grapes, pickle, beef….and the whisky! She was just searching for some glasses when she heard a loud cry of surprise come from outside and still finding herself a little on edge after both the sudden brawl in the town and the salacious horror story Jamie had told her, instinct had her instantly running out the door to protect what was hers! 

Struggling to keep her balance on the sodden ground, as the rain pounded down on her, she slipped and stumbled over to the stable and pen where she could see Jamie’s lamp on the ground and a shape thrashing about next to it. The lump would rise up from the ground only to return to it again with Gaelic profanities accompanying each fall.

“Bu chòir dhomh a bhith air feòil isbean a dhèanamh dhut o chionn bhliadhnaichean, an seann mhuc! _I should have made sausage meat of you years ago, ye old hog!”_

Ever one for steaming into turmoil without hesitation, Claire stumbled her way into the pen. Everything then happened so fast. The rain was lashing down on her; three thoughts crossed her mind simultaneously ( _Jesus H Roosevelt Christ! It’s cold; Where the hell is Jamie?; and Where the hell is the devilled old sow?);_ The thunder cracked again and the next step she took felt like stepping onto sheet ice and her legs were suddenly propelled forward and she flew to the floor like a marionette puppet; she fell down flat on her back; the wind knocked out of her.

Claire heard Jamie call out to her. He was only a few metres away, but he might as well have been at the other end of the field, for all she could hear him! She could just make out in the dark rain, Jamie slowly making his way towards her but every time they each tried to get up, one of them slipped again, taking the other back down with them.

“Jamie!”

“Claire!...just…och!…”

“Shit! Careful Jam…. aargh!”

“Ifrinn! _Hell!_ ” 

“Jesus H….ow!“

This comedy of errors carried on for several sodden minutes. Jamie finally deciding that the easiest way to escape was to crawl on their hands and knees. He was just about to suggest this to Claire when he heard a snort from behind him coming from the depths of the stable. Jamie swiftly discovered that having 600 pounds of ferocious hog hurtling towards you works wonders at sharpening the mind and lightening the toes! Hurling himself and Claire up and through the gate, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist; he quickly turned to secure it and then they slipped and stumbled back into the house looking like a pair of deer escaping an icy lake.

Jamie’s cursing still had not abated until he finally stopped and looked up at Claire. She stood covered from to head to foot in thick, brown mud, pig shit, hay and God knows what else; her hair was wet and very stuck to her face, which in turn was fully caked with mud as well. Only her 2 beautiful leopard eyes could break him from his irritation, and he paused to take her all in. Her temper was somewhat frayed too; this was not quite how she had envisioned spending their sudden happy engagement. Jamie thought she looked wonderful though, despite all the pig shit and suddenly the absurd humour of the situation hit him and he double over in laughter at this glorious muddy siren before him.

For the shortest of moments Claire was indignant at his laughter; she looked down at herself, then up at him and suddenly her white teeth appeared as she too descended into laughter. Jamie struggled to contain himself, shaking his head still, but eventually, he ventured,

“Oh Christ, Claire, look at ye! Yer filthy! Me too! We cannae stay in these muddy clothes – we’ll dry rigid!”

Claire looked back at him, unable to resist the urge to flirt with him a little,

“Well, Mr Fraser, what would you suggest we do about that?!”

Her unexpected brazen remark stopped him in his tracks _Lord have mercy!_ , and whilst the laughter left him, the smile remained. He would play along and call her bluff,

“Well, Mistress Beauchamp, I think we’ll need to escape these _wet_ and _dirty_ clothes…”

He slowly made his way towards her, like a cat staking its prey. Her heart froze in shock at his tone and yet lower down it was only wet heat that she felt. Swallowing as she watched a drop of water bead its way down his neck and into the depths of his jacket, subconsciously wishing that she could dive in after it, she countered,

“ I…er…” The situation was now getting to her. She tried again, speaking low, and licking her lips.

“I... don’t know how to stop being so filthy.” She halted, and then blushed wide-eyed, as she realised quite what she had just said. Jamie continued to tease,

“Claire, I’m no sayin’ I ever want ye to stop that…. Come! It’ll be cold but the quickest way!”

He grabbed her hand and much to her shock, he dragged her back outside. He was right, it was cold, but the onslaught of torrential rain quickly washed away most of the mud, leaving them both drookit but minus the worst of it now, at least.

They both rushed back into the warm cottage and Jamie closed and locked the door; they were now secure and fully secluded in this secret space. Jamie couldn’t work out if that was a good thing or a bad!

“Get yersel’ by the fire, lass. I’ll find us somethin’ dry tae change intae.”

Off he went to the large chest that Claire had noticed earlier and began rummaging around, with purpose. Claire’s mind was still whirling at how wildly the day had altered her future…forever. Her feelings for Jamie had been creeping up on her for weeks now, but the events of today had caused both to confront their feelings in such an unexpected and honest way. And now here she was, newly engaged, and deliriously happy about it. Not least because throughout the day, and the last few weeks, she had been fighting an uncontrollable desire for him and seeing him half naked this afternoon and then clad so wet in only his jacket and trousers, was making it exceptionally hard for her to breathe again. 

Rather oblivious to Claire’s respiratory problems, Jamie came back with one of his dry shirts and a large swathe of tartan, thinking she could use it as an arisaid, if she wished. Dropping a clean pair of trousers and another shirt on his cot for himself, he looked around trying to work out the best way for them to remain dignified and respectful as they only had the one room to change in.

“Erm, Claire, why don’t ye get changed there by the fire as it’ll be warmer there and, er, I’ll change o’er here by the cot. I can go and wait ootside if ye wid rather hae yer privacy. I’m sorry lass, there’s no much more I can do…”

Claire swung round and looked him dead in the eye,

“Wait outside?! Jamie, it is torrential rain; you’ll catch your death of cold out there, and then where would I be?! A widow before I was married!” 

She continued in a soft and reassuring tone _with just a hint of flirtation,_

“Don’t worry, we’ll managed.”

He smiled bashfully and nodded, looking about to ready himself for who would go first. In the end, Claire decided it was her, due in no small part to the fact that she quickly realised that she’d struggle to get her garments off without some help…

“Um,… Jamie?”

“Hmm?”

Embarrassed she admitted,

“I need your help, I think.” Feeling both aroused and mortified at the same time was proving to be quite uncomfortable for Claire. Her feelings were not helped by Jamie moving closer towards her to assist as required.

“Oh aye, sure!” he looked over at her seeming to assess where he might start.

“If you could just find the ties for this skirt please…” her voice tailed off as Jamie approached her and started looking at her back. Claire tried to suppress a sigh at having him move so near and when he began to pull on her ties she caught her breath. He noticed and swallowed, watching her neck as he pulled and wafted the skirt down.

“What now?!” Husky and his resolve weakening, it was Jamie’s turn to sigh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry!! 
> 
> Indeed, Jamie - What's now? 
> 
> Wasn't so sure about this chapter. I do hope it comes across well...


	7. Show me the light!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we go then.....first attempt at a steamy scene...eek!
> 
> ************************  
> NSFW  
> ************************
> 
> Previously.....
> 
> ******************
> 
> “Um,… Jamie?”
> 
> “Hmm?”
> 
> Embarrassed she admitted,
> 
> “I need your help, I think.” 
> 
> Feeling both aroused and mortified at the same time was proving to be quite uncomfortable for Claire. Her feelings were not helped by Jamie moving closer towards her to assist as required. 
> 
> “Oh aye, sure!” he looked over at her seeming to assess where he might start.
> 
> “If you could just find the ties for this skirt please…” her voice tailed off as Jamie approached her and started looking at her back. Claire tried to suppress a sigh at having him move so near and when he began to pull on her ties she caught her breath. He noticed and swallowed, watching her neck as he pulled and wafted the skirt down. 
> 
> “What now?!” Husky and his resolve weakening, it was Jamie’s turn to sigh.

Suddenly a little shy, Claire looked down at her remaining clothes,

“Well, erm…” _Hell, what IS next?_

She felt Jamie step in a little closer still behind her and heard him slowly breathing in, his nose close to her hair. Both stood rigid, anticipation slowly consuming them. In that moment, Jamie decided that _this_ night would be hers; he would show her just how much she meant to him and how indebted he felt towards her. He would serve her up with the same pleasure that she had awoken in him. With a quiet certainty, he offered,

“Let me, lass.”

And with that he slowly walked around to face her and found the ties on her roll pad, secure around her waist. As they both looked down and watched, he pulled one end of the bow; Jamie entranced in watching it come away; Claire too nervous to look at him for fear that she would lose all control in the moment. As it pulled away, he slid his fingers down into the gap and drew the ends fully apart. It was discarded on the floor within moments. With just as much care and serenity, he removed her outer jacket, panel & sleeves. 

Claire gave out a shaky breath when Jamie then knelt in front of her on one knee, watching her as he did so. The light from the fire was making the lower half of her body somewhat visible to him. _Christ, she looked so bonny in her shift, stays and stockings! What the sight of her did to him!_ He put one hand around the back of her right ankle and gently lifted it as his left hand gradually swept its way up towards the top of her stocking; under the hem of her shift. All the while he stirred her awakening with his intoxicating words, 

“Tonight, my lady, I will serve you. The night will be fer you alone. I mean tae show ye, in great depth…”

Claire’s heart hitched at the way Jamie’s deep voice rumbled out those last words, coupled with feeling his fingers pull away the first stocking from her body. He slowly reached for the second, all the while still talking,

“…just how very, very grateful I am tae have ye here, an’ fir helpin’ me start tae heal ma many wounds. I will spend all the days an’ nights o’ ma life makin’ maself worthy of ye, Claire…. serving ye.”

_Oh, this man!_

“One day, I will take ye back tae Lallybroch an’ make ye Lady…”

He pulled away the tie.

“Broch…”

He hooked his fingers into the stocking feeling her smooth warm thigh.

“Turach.”

He pulled the stocking down and off in one continuous movement. The effect on Claire’s resolve was electrifying. Jamie ran his palm and fingers up and down the back of her calf and then he placed her leg back down on to the ground and in one smooth movement stood up, until he once again looked down on her. Claire found this view of Jamie wonderful; looking up at him, she found him so gallant and she wanted to know all there was to know about him and she intended to start with his body.

Slowly she reached for his rock-solid chest, rubbing her fingers over a small part; it was mostly covered in the wet jacket that still concealed his solemn history. She could see that the rain still clung to his beautiful skin and she could think of little else but how glorious it would feel to strip him from the coat; and indulge herself in his stunning torso. With an evident rasp to her voice, holding his eye, she spoke,

“Jamie, I want to see you; I want to see all of you…and want to begin with…your back…will you permit me to see, my love?”

As expected, he stiffened in his stance. _How could he not?_ Claire held her breath but she need not have worried; as if in a trance, he reached his hands up, opened the jacket and spread it wide; it felt as if he was a long-discarded gift that was finally being unwrapped and seen for the first time; ready to finally be cherished. First, one strong shoulder appeared; and then the other, as he leaned and dropped the coat some distance away on a chair. Claire could feel her arousal grow between her legs at the sight of his strong Viking chest alone. _There is no fighting evolution!_

Before she thought to reach out to him though, he began to slowly turn around so that the light of the fire could illuminate the macabre artefact for her. She knew that he was baring to her the darkest, most painful part of his soul; made flesh and it moved her beyond words. _How was it possible for her heart to both swell and break simultaneously?_

He held still, only his fingers gently rubbing his thumb and palms, betraying his nervousness. Claire reached out and for the first time since seeing his back so cruelly exposed in the village square, truly took in what carnage his nightmare with Randall had left. She began at his right shoulder and gently guided her fingers along the depressions left by his body’s attempt at healing the damage inflicted by that beast. She continued this way, slow and sensual; caressing and touching, until she reached below his ribs. As her touch had continued, she felt him relax somewhat, almost as if her warm touch was soothing him and reassuring him. 

Stepping closer, she fed her right hand around his waist to his belly and drew him close to her, planting a kiss on the very centre of his back, and then resting her cheek against it. Jamie leaned back into her and lifted his head back and to the side to rest his cheek on the top of her head. _If anyone had ever told him that a woman existed who could smooth away, with only her touch, the shame that he felt whenever he was reminded of his back, he would have said that they were mad; gullible; wrong! And yet, here she was._

Jamie stood enveloped in the warmth of her love for a good while longer; his breathing became laboured though as she began to move her fingers across his abdomen. With this, he could hold still no longer, and he stood up tall again and steeling himself, he began to turn. His head went first, as he swept his eyes around to catch her in his gaze and his solid body followed. There was no doubting the intent in his eyes, or Claire’s; they were locked on one another as if drawn by some intimate force.

Jamie moved through the small space between them and passionately kissed her lips; finding his hand on the back of her head as if it had always belonged there; always meant to be there. Her lips parted swiftly with his tongue’s invitation and from that moment, neither could tell from whom the moans were coming. They remained like this for some time; exploring one another’s mouths as if they were filled with infinite treasures and little time to discover them.

After a while, Claire gently caught Jamie’s lower lip between her teeth and pulled ever so slightly. He groaned with pleasure and held her gaze again. He could see a silent message written in it, just for him and it told him that it was time to take things up a notch.

Holding her sultry gaze, Jamie took a small step back and began to circle behind. She held his gaze until he was too far round. Bringing his arm around her waist and gently pulling her close to hold her still, he brought his head over her shoulder so that they could watch together and began to pull at the strings on her stays. Feeling wet and ready herself, Claire moved her hand up behind her, to hold and rub his obvious arousal with her palm but he quickly stopped undoing her stays to remove the distraction. It had clearly taken an iron will to do so as she could tell, from the short contact he had allowed, that he was just as eager as she was for more. Whispering in her ear, she listened to him make his case,

"No, Claire, let me do this for you - let me show you how grateful I am for saving me. I want you to experience just how precious you are to me; see all I want to do for you; _to_ you."

Jamie’s words had rumbled out and, in that moment, she felt again just how wet he was making her. Desperate for him to satiate her urgent need, she complied…. for now. Still with one arm around her waist, he finished with the stays and they fell to the ground. Jamie then reached round and drew his hand up the inside of her thigh; under the forbidden hem of her shift again and he found her very centre, deep within her folds and slowly circled it. It was clear immediately by his delicate touch that alone or not, in recent times; he was no novice at this. Claire’s first reaction was to raise up a lazy arm, which draped itself behind Jamie’s head; and her second was to let out a long, low, languorous moan which sounded like,

“Jaaaammmmiiieeee…” 

_Damn, he knew what to do alright! Right there! God, right there!_

The roughness of his calloused fingers was bliss as Claire arched her body and rocked her pleasure centre against them. She could feel herself beginning to rouse under his skilful hands; it had after all been a long time since she had had anyone’s hand there except her own; but it was not enough for her. She wanted to see and have all of Jamie and her appetite for him was becoming ravenous. Much to his momentary surprise, she stopped his hand; removed it and turned to face him. Grabbing handfuls of his curls, she panted,

"Jamie, both of us have lost _so_ much time; suffered _so_ much, I don't. want. to wait. I don’t want to. I know you wish to protect my honour, but it is no good; I feel like I will end right here; right now; if I don’t have you inside me.”

The pants that escaped Jamie’s throat through this matched hers.

“I want you here. Now.” She growled,

“I am done waiting…"

Attempting to catch his breath it took Jamie a few moments to answer,

“…Aye, lass! Ye make a fair point. I think I am done too. I am yours; now an’ firever…If ye’ll have me?”

“Oh, I want you Jamie; I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life before!”

Their mouths clashed once again; their bodies pressed up against one another; fighting to get closer. Jamie reached between them to her shift and pulled the drawstring. Claire let a little distance between them appear and the material covering the last of her wonderful body fell to the ground, with a helping hand from gravity and Jamie’s breath was taken away. Her body; her breasts; her stomach; her honeypot; her legs; it was all sending him wild but the shock of seeing a number of large areas of raging burnt skin across her lower torso ripped his very heart from him and he fell to his knees, in penance, as if the fault was his.

The marks were several in number, each about the size of his palm and the odd layout of them suggested that they had been inflicted on several different occasions, rather than one sad accident. Finally, Jamie realized what connected them so deeply; how she understood some of the shame he lived with; how she had recognised, before him, that they were kindred spirits. Tears brimming in disbelief and clutching her damaged body to his cheek he pushed through the lump in his throat,

“Oh, ma brave lass! Ma brave, bonny lass! Who...? Whit…?”

His breath failed him. Whilst Claire stood defiant, Jamie’s kind and honest reaction to her own trauma made her love him all the more and she succumbed to tenderly hold his head to her body; her hands reaching into his wet auburn curls. It was clear he was devastated but she would be damned if she were going to let any more of their horrors ruin this night; they had both missed out on too much already. _Hell, no! Not going to happen!_

"I don't want to talk about them now Jamie, I just want you to make me feel safe; protected, wanted. I will tell you tomorrow; I will tell you it all. I promised you. But I want you to take me. Now."

Jamie was learning very quickly that when Claire used that particular tone, he better damn well do what she asked, with haste! In this moment, he nodded his head and found her lips again with abandon; his hands caressing her back; her waist; her hips, as he danced her naked form back to his cot. Every moment, their kisses becoming more urgent and needy. Pressing himself again her, she could feel his rigid passion calling to her to be seen.

Drawing her mouth away from him, Claire whispered,

“I want to see all of you, Jamie. I want to see you, my love.”

Jamie nodded his consent silently and Claire reached for his trousers buttons, undoing them one at a time, by touch alone; her eyes never leaving his face. As soon as there was room, she slid her hand in and filled it with his length, squeezing slightly as Jamie’s breath caught in his throat at the exhilarating touch. As he guided the garment down, he took a small step back to grant her a look at him.

Seeing her transfixed on his cock coupled with her finding the need to swallow in delight made him feel more of a man than at any other point in his life. He was not the largest you would find but his erection was no trifling matter when seen this close and Claire could not help but reach out to explore it again. She palmed his balls and explored his silky length, circling her thumb over his tip. _Christ! This clearly was not her first time doing this too!_

That thought made Jamie both deeply grateful and thoroughly envious simultaneously. But he knew better than most that the most intense things in life tended to be this complicated mix of opposing forces; joy & sorrow; light & dark; pain & pleasure. Either way, her well placed hand elicited a deep groan in him as he laid his body and soul bare for her. With great restraint and breathlessness, he quietly rumbled to her,

“Claire, I’ll be spent afore we begin if ye carry on like that, lass! Lay yerself doon on the bed, mo ghaol. I wish tae serve and explore ye more.”

Following his request, Claire lay herself back onto the cot and her naked Norseman took his place next to her, leaning his weight on one elbow and marvelling in her glorious sight. As she rubbed and explored the nipple closest to her left arm, Jamie took her right in his hand and gently kissed the pulse point he found there, teasing it with the tip of his tongue again. His kisses continued up her arm, to her shoulder, her neck. _Oh, Sweet Lord!_

His hand then found her breast, which had been tingling with neglect until now. He rubbed his thumb over her pink nipple and feeling it rise to his touch, he squeezed it between that and his finger. _Ah, she liked that, judging by her reaction! A_ ll the while he continued exploring her neck with his lips, nipping, and sucking her flesh, which lead her to slur and moan,

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!......Jamie!”

_The things it did to his cock, hearing her call out his name thus! He was sure it made him harder, if such a thing was possible._

Jamie’s big strong hand continued its exploration south, as he caressed her waist and hip, eventually finding his way to the part of her that he had spent many weeks longing to discover; her beautiful, round arse. It felt just as soft; and full; and succulent as he had dreamt it would be and in truth, he longed to sink his teeth deep into it. _Another time…_

He let out an aroused moan picturing it and as he ghosted her breasts and neck with his lips, he whispered to her,

“Christ, yer arse, Lass! I have wanted tae hold it in ma hands an’ _squeeze_ it from that very first time I saw ye bent ower. The things ye did tae me…an’ me never knowin’ that you’d ever be mine, fir real!”

Reluctantly leaving his favourite part of her so far, he brought his hand round to her sweet honeypot and cupped her. Claire opened her legs a little more, granting him access and he gently explored her folds before plunging his finger deep inside, it quickly joined by another. Claire moaned loudly as her hips rose to meet him each time as he delved deeper, letting his thumb find her bud and tease it too.

“Oh Claire, I have wanted to see ye like this fir sae long now. From the moment ye crashed intae ma life an’ started bossin’ me around, I have wanted tae _tame_ the siren that ye are, feel ye melt just like this at ma touch. Dinna think I am no aware that it is only because ye allow it tae be so though! Oh, but Claire, ye’ve been wi’ me here in ma dreams fir weeks now and I cannae believe that now yer real!”

Needing to check just one last time, he asked her,

“…. Are ye sure ye want me Claire, now? We can stop if ye want but I dinnae think I’ll be able to if it isnae now.”

His throbbing cock was a clear indication that he spoke the truth. As it was, Claire had no intention of them stopping.

“I believe that I told you that wild horses couldn’t keep me away. I want you now, Jamie.”

Her right hand came up to brush back his copper curls, slowly drying in the heat of the moment. She took a deep breath and gently let it out, still enjoying his touch in her quim,

“No more words; it’s time we talk with our bodies alone. Let them heal our wounds and cast out the dark. Let us go and find the light. Show me the light, Jamie!”

The intensity of her pleading gaze galvanised him into action and he removed his hand from inside her body and raised himself up and over her, lowering himself until the length of his cock played with her bud and folds. Jamie took her arms and stretched them above her head, held in place by one of his huge hands. He raised one of her thighs high up on his waist and looked down at her folds. It had been so long since he had been granted such a sight and never had it been such an inviting, welcoming home.

Unable to take his eyes from this incredible sight he watched intently as his cock disappeared into her warm quim. Jamie could not contain his gasp at the feeling of her wrapping her most intimate self around him; just as Claire found a cry escape her too, at his engorged length filling her. Jamie slid out and rammed his cock back again, eager to create the same erotic sensations.

Claire also looked down between them and the sight of him disappearing over and over brought her ever closer to her end. She looked up and met Jamie’s blissful gaze, grabbing one hand around his neck; and the other round his muscular waist.

“Harder!” She demanded,

“Don’t hold anything back, Jamie! I want to have all of you in me; I want to completely consume you and have you take every part of me too.”

Jamie held their locked eyes together and nodded, utterly determined now to satisfy her fully. He had never before felt able to indulge his wilder side; even before the rage that Randall had brought out in him and when he had had opportunity in the past. However, it was clear as the water from a Scottish stream to him, that he had met his match in Claire. She was his equal in so many ways and his resolution became absolute at her welcome request. Holding his palm over the very top of her head to keep her steady, he began to pump his cock into her very depths and vixen that she was, she rose her hips each and every time in unison taking as much from him each time as he took from her.

With each thrust they could both feel their demons leave them; some clung on but most dissipated out into the air; bobbing and weaving; lifting and falling like sparks from a fire catching on the wind and floating away to nothing but ash.

They locked foreheads in deep emotional connection; their curls becoming entwined as their pleasure rose and rose and eventually, they came together in an incredible moment of ecstasy.

“Claire!” Jamie cried.

“Jamie!” Claire screamed.

He spilled into her more and more as each of her spasms continued to caress his cock still deep inside her. Still connected, Jamie looked down at her with such love and tenderness; with tears of wonder in his eyes, seeing the same reflected in hers and caressing her head with his hand, he sought to find the words to describe this moment and his gratitude to her,

“Claire…Lass...I... I…”

Seeing him struggling to find them, she cupped his face, so beautiful above hers and whispered,

“I know Jamie…I know, I think I saw the light too!”

Overwhelmed by the full range of emotions he was feeling in this moment; and what it meant for their future together, he swiftly but tenderly kissed her and in doing so, conveyed so clearly to her just what this moment had meant to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've thoroughly enjoyed writing that scene! I really do hope you enjoyed reading it too! 
> 
> Your comments are very much appreciated. Just please keep them kind and constructive...
> 
> I love how this chapter really shows Jamie discovering his masculinity and confidence again.
> 
> Music that I found inspired me for this chapter was: It’s your Love by Tim McGraw


	8. Fraser Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie begins to reflect on things he has been neglecting and how to fix them. 
> 
> There is some more loving too! 
> 
> ***********  
> NSFW  
> ***********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously.......
> 
> They locked foreheads in deep emotional connection; their curls becoming entwined as their pleasure rose and rose and eventually, they came together in an incredible moment of ecstasy.  
> “Claire!” Jamie cried.  
> “Jamie!” Claire screamed.  
> He spilled into her more and more as each of her spasms continued to caress his cock still deep inside her. Still connected, Jamie looked down at her with such love and tenderness; with tears of wonder in his eyes, seeing the same reflected in hers and caressing her head with his hand, he sought to find the words to describe this moment and his gratitude to her,  
> “Claire…Lass...I... I…”  
> Seeing him struggling to find them, she cupped his face, so beautiful above hers and whispered,  
> “I know Jamie…I know, I think I saw the light too!”  
> Overwhelmed by the full range of emotions he was feeling in this moment; and what it meant for their future together, he swiftly but tenderly kissed her and in doing so, conveyed so clearly to her just what this moment had meant to him.

After their beautiful joining, Jamie and Claire had found rest in one another’s arms for the next few hours. Claire fell into a restful sleep, hearing wonderful expressions of love whispered from Jamie’s lips to her ear. He was slipping into slumber himself and so he spoke in his true heart’s language, but her spirit understood his sentiments regardless of her mind’s inability to translate.

Jamie stirred awake a few hours later, awoken by the cold as the fire had died down and was in fear of extinguishing all together. Reveling in the opportunity to once again be experiencing the pleasure of looking out for a loved one, he pulled his naked body out of the nest that he and Claire had created; grabbed the tartan he had long ago used as a kilt, and set about building up the fire again. The storm was still raging outside, and he found himself soon lost in thought as the unrelenting and hypnotic pummel of the rain caught his ear.

Jamie looked down at the one piece of clothing he had not touched in the 10 years since he had returned to Broch Murdha and discovered the fate of his family. He had stopped feeling like he had a right to wear it long before he had been able to confirm Randall’s taunts about them. In truth, he had not taken his family colours out of the chest since placing them there on his return. He was not sure what had made him reach for them after so long when he searched for something dry for Claire and him to change into, but as he mused about it, he realised that now, he longed very much to see her draped in them.

In fact, he truly wished to make her Lady Broch Turach, as much for her sake as for his tenants. In the six months since she had appeared here, every action he had ever seen of her had unconsciously cemented in his mind the certainty that she, more than anyone he knew now, or had known before, embodied the role, despite previously having had no actual claim to the title. It gave him immense pleasure to think on how that was no longer the case; now that she had agreed to become his wife.

His mind turned to her wonderful ways; he thought about how she held herself with such dignity and grace, even if she spent most of her waking days elbow deep in either blood, puss or vomit from her patients; this made him smile – the memory of seeing her all these months; ordering her patients around with the full expectation of her instructions being followed at once. He thought about how he had seen such compassion and caring in her manner; treating vagabonds, the occasional gentry and everyday folk with equal standing and consideration; a clear lack of judgement on them; yes, that was something he had noticed very quickly. Having been denied such a luxury himself since his return, he could see why his attention had been drawn to that. She really was a rare beast and he wondered, not for the first time, how she had become such a way and just where she had come from.

**********

Without Jamie realising it, Claire had awoken; her body noticing the loss of his presence, having already become needy of it surrounding her. She opened her eyes and found him sitting deep in thought, as he stared into the fire. The light from the it now being the only source, it lit his face up and she could see the shine in his eyes as he barely seemed to blink. It was hard to discern the look in them but if pushed she would say that it was…. contemplative.

He really was a wonder to look at, and it occurred to her that her view in this matter had been slowly blossoming, over these last few weeks particularly. She could watch him like this for the longest time and would still find her heart skip at the new discoveries that could be made in his every move. Before today, she had always felt the need to guard her glances at him, in case he misunderstood and lost his temper, but she held no such concerns now.

Claire could see that Jamie was sat in the tartan that she noticed he had offered her earlier, which ultimately she had had no need of. She could not help but smile at the memory of why she had not needed it; taking joy in remembering his enraptured face when he had finally released himself blissfully into her. Suspecting the tartan was in his family colours, she realised that she had never seen him wear them in all the time she had been here. She had seen other villagers sporting them but never Jamie, who was still their Laird, if in name alone.

Slowly climbing out of the covers, Claire reached for the clean shirt that Jamie had never ended up needing either and she pulled it over her chilled body. Her lithe limbs carried her to the bench near where Jamie was sat. His head turned ever so slightly to acknowledge her quiet arrival, but he continued looking at the fire. 

“You seem far away, my love? Everything alright?” 

Jamie smiled that hook-smile of his; the one she was beginning to recognise and love; a small, short chuckle joining it.

“Aye, lass, everythin’ is much more than a’right. Never fear.”

He leaned himself forward with his elbows resting on his knees. The tartan fell open somewhat to expose the sight of his shoulder, arm, and strong muscular stomach. Claire tried to stay focused, but it was no easy task under such circumstances. Sighing, Jamie opened his thoughts to her, 

“I wis thinkin’ aboot when I returned all those years ago. Ye ken, I felt so ashamed o’ wit had happened; all those months o’ torture an’ abuse had worn me down so much; when I came back an’ found that Randall had been speakin’ the truth; that Annalise an’ Willie…..were gone…”

His voice got so quiet when he said their names. Claire knew that before today, he probably had not said them out loud for all that time. Shaking his head, he continued,

“…I felt like such a coward, Claire. So unworthy o’ the position tae which I had been born. An’ like I told ye, everyone wis just so angry; sat in such judgement o’ me, an’ I welcomed it, in truth. None could be harder on me than I was on maself; even when their anger turned to violence. I went back tae Lallybroch only the once; I…er…I never even visited their graves, Claire; couldnae do it. Collected some things an’ just found maself here, in this old cottage. It wis fair run down when I first arrived but the physical work o’ mendin’ it was just whit I needed at the time.”

Sitting up again, Jamie gathered the tartan back around himself; looked down at it and smoothed his hand over its pattern.

“The truth is though, Claire, that I’ve only continued tae let my tenants down these last 10 years past. They an’ the land have suffered from the lack of a leader. A _true_ Laird would have put his people’s needs first; no’ his own. I lost ma courage fir so long after Randall. In truth, I never thought I would see it again. But mo ghaol; mo chridhe, _my love; my heart_ … _you_ have helped me begin tae find maself again. Ye gave me…. hope, Claire. Hope as I had scarcely believed I would; or should ever be allowed again.”

He reached out his hand to her; it shaking a little as he did,

“I…er…I think it is time; it is time to return tae Lallybroch an’ take up ma place as laird. I am no sure that any o’ them will want me but, they need me...and that’s as good a place tae start as any.” 

Claire took his strong fingers in hers; this brave man and squeezed; reassuring him. She smiled and said,

“Jamie, in all the time that I have known you, I have never once seen you as a coward. Your tenants…they do not understand the full situation and if they did, my love, they would not dismiss you as a coward either! I am not suggesting you give them all the private details but Jamie, you never planned to stay away… It was a tragic turn of events; but not one that was entirely of your making. You didn’t send the deserters to your home; you could just have easily turned up all those months later and arrived to an angry but _alive_ Annalise and Willie!”

Pulling at his hand to make her point, she continued,

“You take too much blame onto your solid, stubborn shoulders, James Fraser. None of us can be _perfect_ , it is too high a standard to expect; would kill any of us in the doing. I will not sit here and claim to be more knowledgeable than I am, Jamie, but I have learnt that in life, we must simply…do our best. No-one can deny that you have tried to do that. Your heart has always belonged to your people, even if it has been too damaged these many years for you to feel it."

Jamie smiled in wonder at this magnificent woman, in front of him. Moved by her inspiring words of reassurance he replied,

“I cannae tell ye, how tae have yer wisdom an’ counsel means… everythin’ tae me, Claire. I have spent so long wieout such a thing. Tae share ma honest thoughts, an’ tae ken that you will always see my true intent is a rare an’ precious gift.”

Removing his hand from hers, and taking another brave step, he opened the cloth that covered him and looking over at her with hooded eyes, his dark tone rasped at her,

“Come, lass…for I find I need ye near me.”

Fully aware of his intent, Claire stood and lifted off the shirt she wore, in one smooth movement. Naked and with his eyes once again feasting on her, she slowly began to lower herself onto him. As his firm cock entered her, he momentarily closed his eyes and sighed. Claire began to rock against him, relishing the feeling of being in control and being able to serve him up such delicious pleasure; it felt all-consuming for her; his pleasure; her pleasure; their incredible connection. Meanwhile, Jamie wrapped the Fraser tartan around them both and seeing this brought an additional wave of arousal for her.

Both sought out the other’s mouth with an unhurried sensuality; never losing their eye contact. This was all still so new, and they were enjoying learning their way of _being_ together. Their compatibility was evident though and it was not long before their gentle rocking and writhing made them both pant with increasing breathlessness; taking in one another’s air. Jamie steadied Claire’s hips with his sturdy hands, which created just the friction that they both needed to ascend higher. The joy and bliss that they felt consumed by, was still so rare to both of them and in the privacy of their intimate space, it showed so radiantly on both their faces. They opened themselves to one another again and sailed off on the wave of intense pleasure together. As they gradually descended from their erotic high, they hugged and nuzzled necks; and Jamie lifted her, still straddling him, back to their nest, the Fraser colours coming with them,

“Come, mo ghaol, _my love_ , let me hold ye while ye sleep…”

Once again, slumber came to the resting new lovers easily and there they stayed until the morning light, which would bring with it the passing of the storm; the beginning of their future together and the unrelenting realities of life. 

***********

Hours later, it was Claire that stirred first to this fact. Jamie had his left arm draped over her, but she managed to turn her head slightly and saw that he had the softest smile on his face. When coupled with those dark lashes of his, which she was thoroughly enjoying having this uninterrupted time to savour; its effect on her was deep and visceral. Then, seeing his auburn curls loose around his face, something she had never seen prior to following him to his cottage yesterday and their lovemaking, fascinated her too and she fought the urge to reach out and touch them, for fear of waking him and breaking the cocoon they had created around themselves.

She cared for this incredible man so very deeply and now it was her turn to worry if he might reject her. Especially as he was now talking about her becoming Lady to his Laird. She wanted to see Jamie fulfill his rightful duty again as Lord Broch Turach, but for his sake alone. She began to fear that her true story was too much though, even for a man as loyal and honourable as she believed Jamie to be. _How could he possibly understand; or even believe her?_

He had been so shocked by the sight of her scars and when she thought about how it had floored him to see them for the first time, she felt truly moved. But her own demons were beginning to scratch at the door, and the loneliness of being without him as he slept was beginning to make her panic. She knew that in this moment she needed to feel connected and to find solace in that.

To that end, Claire could feel on her backside that certain parts of Jamie’s anatomy were already awake and able, and she slowly arched her back, causing her arse to press firmer against him. A broad smile enveloped her face as she enjoyed the feelings it stirred in her once again. Her heart soared when she heard Jamie sleepily let out a long, low growl as she maneuvered herself to rub him between her folds.

She continued to slowly gyrate her hips backwards and forwards, loving the feeling of his hard cock stroking her too, just where she needed it. Greedy for the attention on her body, in lieu of Jamie’s touch, she kneaded her own breast and squeezed her nipple, hard, just like she enjoyed it and before she could stop herself, a sexy moan escaped her throat. Stilling herself momentarily, she knew the moment Jamie became lucid and aware that his wet dream was actually a reality. In those deep, aroused tones of his, he took a good handful of her arse and mumbled,

“Oh lass, I could get used tae having ye wake me like this every mornin’…” 

Hearing him talk this way was so unfamiliar and new but Claire had no real time to savour the joy of those words; she had one focus; and one focus alone,

“Jamie, I want you inside me. I need you. Right. Now.”

Responding to her plea, he swept away her hair, to expose her delicious neck and began kissing and nibbling it, which only resulted in her arching her arse and squeezing her thighs together to grind against him more. When he had teased her sufficiently, he reassured her,

“Madam…”

_Christ! How could the tone of his voice alone make her almost come?!_

“…I am your servant…always.”

The goosebumps covered her body and it felt like a bolt of lightening shot straight to her pleasure centre.

Jamie’s left hand came between Claire’s arm and her body and grasped onto her shoulder to hold her in position. She angled herself in readiness and gasped with joy at being so full, when Jamie took hold of his cock and in one swift movement, drove himself in to the hilt. As she felt him begin to thrust expertly over and over, she felt no inhibitions about sharing what she wanted,

“Oh Christ!... Oh yes!... Jamie!.... Just like that!…Bloody hell!...Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

In this incredible moment, Claire had no desire to be the one in control; she was happy for Jamie to be so and in fact, feeling him do so in such a passionate and accomplished way served to reassure her that _being_ the one in charge was exactly what he needed in this moment too. Yet again, it was liberating them both as they connected so deeply.

Before another coherent thought could enter Claire’s head, Jamie’s other arm came around her waist to hold her steady as he quickened the pace, grunting as he continued. This new arm soon moved and found her drenched bud, expertly pressing it in circular motions as he felt himself close and wanted her to come with him.

Still kissing and biting her neck from behind, Jamie sensed Claire’s arm reach up and hold his neck in place, her fingers firmly grabbing his curls - this had the effect of making him double his efforts. As they both cried out; their ecstasy once again overwhelming them; Claire was struck by how freeing it was giving herself over to him. In other times, in other places, she would have felt weak and controlled… but not here, like this, with Jamie. This connection that they shared; it was unlike anything either of them had experienced before and she knew that she had to find the strength to trust him with her story; as he had done; trust that he felt the same as she had yesterday; that nothing she could tell him would change how he felt about her. 

She hoped that her faith was not misplaced.

 _Please, dear God!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Where did all that sexiness come from?! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed their continued passion! All a bit "Episode 107" with their 3-times in one night! :-D 
> 
> The question now is 
> 
> Do we have them reminisce about how they met and have some chapters on the back story? 
> 
> OR
> 
> Do we need to get Claire's story out in the open first?
> 
> Let me know what you think....


	9. Clarence has the Flu!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over breakfast, they reminisce about the day they met...

One of the things that Claire had learnt during her time travelling through Scotland was that Scotsmen had an immoveable affinity with porridge – oats, water, salt and heat! Jamie was no exception to this, and he was already up and stirring his pot in the warm hearth, when Claire awoke for the second time this morning. Seeing him engage in an activity that was so domestic and _normal_ spoke of shared intimacy again to Claire and she was moved at being granted the privilege of witnessing it.

She once again pulled on one of Jamie’s shirts, enjoying being encased in his scent as she noticed that he had spread out her own clothes to warm by the fire next to where he stood. He was dressed in his shirt, breeks and boots and now that she felt no need to restrain her attraction to him, she savoured the wonderful view openly; his shoulders; his thighs; his arse. She placed a lot of value on a strong backside! In fact, seeing a flat arse on a man was as disappointing as a weak jaw for her, she found. _Damn, he really was a sight to see!_

In between stirs of his porridge, Jamie looked up and smiled warmly at her,

“Ye hungry, Claire? It’ll only be a few more minutes...”

Sitting herself at the table, she rested her chin on her raised palm and smiled at the vision before her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a loved one make her breakfast; it felt wonderful. She was full of such joy at seeing how happy and confident Jamie looked this morning. So different than every other occasion she had ever been with him, before last night. In those moments he was only ever serious, tense or down-right grumpy. Oh, she knew his frown expertly, having been the cause of it many times! He was like a different man today though and she could clearly see that the noble gentleman she had always felt him to be was emerging before her very eyes, even as he stirred his pot! 

Fussing about the room finding her a spoon and a bowl; happily serving her up a hefty portion of his beloved food, Jamie continued looking for the honey and with a brief cheer of victory when he found it, he leaned over her and placed it on the table. Hesitantly, he swept her hair off her neck and placed a gentle kiss right where it met her shoulder. He mumbled into her curls, 

“I dinnae ken about you, but I am _ravenous_ after last night, lass.” 

She chuckled and picked up her spoon. Jamie walked around the table, pulled over the chair and sat down to eat opposite her. She tried to hide another mischievous smile behind her hand and spoon, but he saw it and beamed back at her. He knew that he would be asking her to share what was evidently a difficult story for her at some point today but for now, he was just so happy to see her at ease…and _here_ , with him.

In such a rare moment of contentment, Claire’s mind drifted to how so much had changed for her in the six months since she had stumbled into Jamie Fraser’s path, that fateful October morning. In the last 7 years, she had never settled anywhere for such a length of time. Well, she never had before that either, if she was honest.

Before.

_How had it been 7 years already?_

There had always been something that stopped her putting down roots, but she wondered if finally, here with Jamie that might be about to change. The thought that she still had to share her own horror story with him was systematically gnawing at her mind but for now she wanted to contemplate their shared beginning. Struggling to contain her smile, Claire asked him tenderly,

“Do you remember the day we met?”

Looking at her out of the corner of his eyes, remembering full well the day that they met, he warily replied,

“Aye, lass. I remember fine enough. I came away wie a stubbed toe; a bite on ma arse fae yer mule there and one of the worst cockstands I’d had in years wie no one tae help me tend it!”

Claire laughed out loud and then with a twinkle in her eye, feigned concern,

“Oh dear, my love! You poor thing! If only I’d known, I could have rubbed them all better for you!”

Jamie let out a loud laugh as well, in response and shook his head at her continuing brazenness.

********

**_Six months previously…_ **

****

He had taken the morning to walk his traps set up in the woods. It was a mild day given that it was the end of October. One of those rare days where the world around him seemed to momentarily forget the current season it was in. Scotland was at its best on days like these; the blue light found here was very different to the yellow light found in somewhere much further south in, say, Europe. However, when it was coupled with a clear sky, it very much drew out the yellows, the purples and the deep rich blues of the landscape. It created a sight that was so multi-layered; completely breath-taking, no matter which direction you looked in.

Jamie was lost again in the pleasure of being in this great wilderness that he hadn’t initially seen the woman and her mule by the roadside. Not one for mixing with others these days, he tended to stay far out of the village, which was a few miles east, and only left his small homestead when absolutely necessary.

He was close to the edge of the woods when he finally looked forwards and saw her. She took his breath away in that very first moment, as he saw her standing about 15 metres ahead, her profile so clear to him. She had the usual dress-wear he would expect; a beautiful dark brown woollen check skirt, with a deep forest green jacket atop; however, something about the way she wore the handsome woollen stole around her neck and the wrist warmers on her forearms caught his attention. There was something otherworldly about them; about her. She wore no cap over the most glorious head of dark brown curls and Jamie’s eyes widened at the beauty of them.

She turned her head up and down the road as if hoping for someone to come. Next to her, she had the roughest looking mule that Jamie had seen in a long while. It was laden down with a number of baskets and other items, but it did not look well at all. Even from here, Jamie could hear the cough it regularly emitted. Sounded like equine influenza to him! Usually this would be a few days rest and the animal would be right as rain, but Jamie wasn’t convinced that this beast would make it.

Standing perfectly still and within the edge of the woods, Jamie continued to watch the woman; entranced, as she raised her hands to her hips and looked to the sky for inspiration. _No point lookin’ up there, lass, I’ve done it many times maself; you’ll hear nae answer tae yer plea!_ He heard her let out a loud sigh and looking around again as if to check this time that she was alone, she began to move in the oddest of ways.

Firstly, she began by rolling her neck in a circle; then she raised her elbows out to her sides and moved her flat hands into her body, above her bosom and then out to the sides, which remind Jamie of Christ on the cross; keeping her arms out long, she twisted her upper body from side to side a few times and then reached down to her toes with the opposite hand. The next thing he knew, she was jumping on the spot, arms and legs stretched out like….well, like a star and try as he might, he couldn’t look away as her cleavage bounced just visible under the bottom of her stole.

Jamie’s cheeks were red hot from the unexpected thrill of spying such a display but then she did two things that made him stir hard in a way that he hadn’t in a long time. To begin with, she bent over; fully over, with her arse stuck up in the air, clearly sorting her shoelace. It had been so long since Jamie had been in any sort of vicinity of a woman, let alone one in this position, that the fact that she was fully swathed in her heavy wool dress made absolutely no difference to his reaction. As if this wasn’t powerful enough, the woman briefly stood up and then reached her long arms back down in front of her and pulled up her skirts to reveal the majority of her left leg to retie her stocking. Even at this distance, Jamie could see the milk white flesh of her upper thigh and he felt a twitch in his groin that he shamefully knew he would have to attend to later. Despite knowing he really shouldn’t be looking at her, what he couldn’t do in that moment was stop. 

Within a heartbeat though, the moment had passed; reality had returned and the first of an infinite number of frowns, caused by this woman, descended onto his face. _Why on earth was she here? Never mind! She was of no consequence to him!_ Or at least, that is what he must force himself to believe. Lonely he might be but alone he would stay. He had no right to expect anything else.

Whilst she was turned away, he took the last few steps forward to the edge of the trees and then walked the path that flanked the wood, away from this curly-haired outlander, with her milk-white thigh and her delicious hidden arse. He didn’t therefore see the moment that her mule collapsed.

She, however, did see _him_ and she called out with authority,

“You, sir! Come and help me! My mule has collapsed! Hurry!”

Cross for a number of reasons; the fact that she had seen him; the fact that he now had to talk to her; the fact that he was still affected by her recent actions; Jamie stomped through the heather towards her, mumbling,

“O tha, damn boireannach! Tha mi nam sheasamh an seo a ’feitheamh ri seirbheis a thoirt dhut le làimh is cas! _Oh yes, damn woman! I am just standing here waiting to serve you on hand and foot!_ ” 

As he reached her though it was like the rays of the sun getting brighter and brighter with every step closer. Outwardly, he still looked thoroughly cross but inside, he was at a loss over what to say or do, being confronted by this unexpected wonder.

“Oh, do stop mumbling and help me!”

Despite this, both of them just stood and looked at the animal; Claire unsure what to do first; Jamie unsure why they were bothering as the beast seemed close to giving up completely. To this end, Jamie offered coldly,

“Ye should have the useless runt shot; he's no worth the effort o’ moving him. Here, I'll dae it fir ye!”

And he made to remove his pistol, from his belt. Claire was appalled and angrily replied,

“Don't you dare, you barbarian!! Clarence is my friend! He has seen me safe all the way from France _and_ through England. He has been instrumental in saving me on several occasions. I wager he has more value than a useless fool like yourself!”

In that one last sentence, she had inadvertently prodded at a deep wound that was still festering after many years and Jamie shoved his pistol back into his belt and stormed off down the road. Claire was having none of this though and marched after him,

“"Oh, so you are just going to walk away and abandon me, are you?! Leave me here without helping! My, what a _gentleman_ you are?!”

Jamie immediately stopped in his tracks at this; turned, and pointing his finger at her, he bellowed,

“I am NOT abandoning ye! Dinnae say such a thing tae me!”

It was clear that Claire had not expected quite that reaction to her retort and she took a moment’s pause and then sighed. Jamie couldn’t know but Claire tended to rush into situations and get in well over her head. In fact, bad memories of France came rushing back to her and she walked back to Clarence, dropped herself on the side of the road next to him and took large gulps of air trying to calm her rising panic.

She suddenly looked very much out of her depth and as her breath returned, she let out a long sigh and stared off down the road, past Jamie, and into the distance. In her mind she was wondering what the hell she was going to do now and unable to contemplate how she would ever carry on if anything happened to Clarence.

Jamie couldn’t seem to help himself and turned to see where she had suddenly gone. Seeing her sit so defeated by the roadside, he couldn’t help but feel a pull to assist her. He turned away from her again, let out a grumpy sigh and shaking his head he turned and stomped back towards where she was sitting. Gruffly, he told her, whilst gesturing with his hand,

“Come. I’ve a place ye can stop at.”

Claire looked up indignantly at him,

“I am a lady. I am not going anywhere with you, Sir!”

Jamie puffed up like an indignant rooster and went to tell this _lady_ just what she could do with herself, and her mule! His good manners thankfully, surfaced in time and instead he reassured her that he knew of an empty cottage that she could have.

“It is fair near ma own but it will gie ye some privacy at least. My Lady.”

He made a great point of showing her his leg to reassure her of his honourable intentions, if with the slightest hint of sarcasm in the action. Hesitantly, she asked,

“Are you certain it will be ok?” _Christ, Beauchamp, like he’s going to tell you if it’s not! Why are you trusting him?_

He quietly reassured her,

“Aye…. I ken the laird willnae mind.”

She seemed to be mulling the idea over whilst scrutinising him, with her gaze directed straight at him. It was unrelenting and Jamie found it extremely uncomfortable and was close to losing his temper again if she didn’t hurry up and accept his offer. In truth, he was worried that she would refuse him and that was a further rejection he really couldn’t handle. As usual though, none of this showed on his face and instead he just looked sullen and ill-tempered. In the end though, she must have seen something that reassured her. _God knows what!_

Having made up her mind, Claire returned to her previous state of taking charge and having advised Jamie of her decision to go with him, she stood up and began loading baskets; and blankets; and satchels into his arms until he was having trouble seeing passed it all.

“How the hell am I meant tae see where am goin’ lass? It’s too much! Will ye sto…”

Claire ignored him and added one more blanket which toppled the lot out of Jamie’s arms and right onto the ground in front of him. A particularly heavy item caught his foot and he growled loudly in pain, followed by limping in small circles trying to suppress the pain and embarrassment.

“Mac galla à ifrinn! _Son of a bitch from Hell!”_

“Jesus H Roosevelt, Christ! Be careful! I have some very rare medicine in there! You are going to ruin it all! For fu… Give me stren.... Downright bloody useless!!”

“Oh, dinnae mind me, mistress!! I'll just stand here an let ye abuse me, shall I? I'm just droppin’ all ma daily chores tae help ye, is all! I have places tae be, ye ken!"

This was not entirely true as his snares had all been checked and reset but, Jamie felt a need to suggest it might be so; as if he might still be someone who has places to be; things to do. He wasn't yet ready to accept that he wanted to impress her, this strange and interesting woman that had dropped into his day and so his frown returned, cross more at himself than her.

His outburst had caused Claire to stop in that moment and truly look at him properly. It was at this point that several things caught her attention in one quick burst. Firstly, he was tall. _She liked that; it made her feel feminine_. Secondly, he had a head of the richest red curls. There were so many different shades that the light of the day caught them every time he turned. And lastly, his intense blue eyes took her breath away. She could see there was a black ring around his deep blue irises and one of them had the smallest fleck of golden brown. _For Christ sake, stop staring!_ She quickly became flustered, but his eyes had left her gaze before that anyway and so the moment was gone.

“Oh, yes, of course! I am grateful, Sir, I really am. Look, let us start over. My name is Beauchamp, Claire Beauchamp."

She held out her hand, but Jamie just stared at it. She lowered it remembering that handshaking was not the norm here yet.

“Fraser. James Fraser. Your servant, madam.”

He showed her a leg again, but this time with sincerity. Claire found herself curtseying back. 

“Well Mr Fraser, if you would be so good as to assist me with my load, so that Clarence might make it to this cottage you know of, I would be very grateful."

"As ye wish, …Mistress Beauchamp."

It felt good having this contact with her and although she wouldn’t have known it, her trust in him had led him to walk a little taller than normal. He stood still and let her load him up, a little slower and more carefully this time.

Meanwhile, Claire coaxed Clarence up, reassuring him now that his load was lighter and that the walk left wasn’t too far. Jamie walked slightly ahead and internally rolled his eyes at hearing this odd lady talking to her mule as if he would reply heartily. He took a step too close to Clarence though, who grabbed the opportunity to bite Jamie’s arse after the harsh way he had heard his mistress being talked too. 

Jamie once again dropped some of the luggage and Clarence took great pride in hearing his mistress stripping the man down again for not guarding her herbs with enough care and he let out a load brae.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, decided we'd see a little of their back story next. It was close run thing between this and Claire's story but I felt that this was the way to go.
> 
> Hopefully, some of the humour shows through too...
> 
> Thanks for all your lovely comments - they really make my day so thank you for taking the time to write them. I'll reply soon - just had to get this part down!


	10. Rabbit Stew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we continue to see Jamie & Claire reminisce about their meeting.

Feeling full from the annoyingly delicious breakfast that Jamie had made her, _bloody porridge,_ Claire stretched and made to get up with her bowl and spoon.

“No, lass, I’ll see tae them.”

And Jamie went to take them from her. Claire held them away though and smiled at him,

“Jamie, you made breakfast; let me clean the bowls. Anyway, you would not want me getting used to this level of pampering now we are engaged to be married. I might expect it every day!”

Jamie smiled and touched her waist as she stood up and slid past him, in his chair.

“Claire, I will happily indulge ye everyday fir the rest o’ ma life after yesterday….and this morning.”

He smirked and reached out for her again as she came close to him, reaching for some clean water warmed on the hearth. Claire let out a throaty laugh and teased,

“Why Mr Fraser, I do believe you may be trying to pay me back for a most _pleasurable_ night we just spent together… Did you enjoy it?”

As she spoke, she sat in his lap, one arm around his shoulder; the other caressing the back of his neck and his glorious curls, whispering the last question in his ear, the bowls momentarily forgotten in the water. She worried the lobe between her teeth, a little hard.

With eyes darkening by the second at her refreshing flirtation, he found his mind cast back to just how very pleasurable it had indeed all been last night. 

“I’ll tell ye lass, I would spend the rest o’ ma life repayin’ ye for that night alone, it meant that much tae me.”

He looked up at her with a smile, as she sat there on his lap. He caressed her shoulder and her back as he spoke; his eyes searching everywhere for the words,

“Claire, I feel like I had a weight, pressin’ down on ma chest all this time, an’ yesterday, last night…Christ, Claire, it wis like ye walked towards me an’ brushed it away as if it wis just a wee fleck o’ dust. I dinnae understand how ye could be so incredible; so strong. Today, is the first time I’ve bin able tae draw a full breath since…well, since I woke up at Sandringham’s place. I am indebted tae ye, Claire. Truly. An’ I will spend the rest o’ ma life showin’ ye how thankful I am that ye didnae give up on this crotchety old fool all those months ago!” 

“I never saw you as a crotchety old fool, Jamie. Never.”

Jamie looked at her with mirth in his hooded eyes.

“…well, maybe just at the start!” She smiled, trying to restrain a laugh.

Jamie chuckled too, letting her stand up as she finished cleaning the crockery and checking to see if her clothes were dry. Both were silent as they cast their minds back to that first day again, and how it ended. 

********

**_Flashback_ **

Jamie had solemnly led Claire and her haggard mule, Clarence, to an old croft that was situated some way down the track, around a bend in the treeline, not far from his own. In truth, there were about three such vacant cottages to choose from; the other two were located a little closer to the village but something in Jamie felt strangely possessive of this unusual woman; with a need to keep her near, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it.

They hadn’t spoken much on the short walk; Jamie found making conversation awkward with her, struck dumb by her strong aura and his lack of practise interacting with others in recent times; Claire so busy offering words of reassurance and encouragement to Clarence that she paid little heed to the local guide that she had.

Soon enough, they turned off the main track and Jamie led her to the run-down croft which looked like it had seen better days. The thatched roof seemed a little thin in places and the small stable needed several timbers replacing. Despite this though Claire felt an immediate attachment to the hardy little dwelling; the beautiful multi-coloured stonework; the charming little symmetrical windows either side of the door and a wonderful little bench sat under one of them made Claire smile for some reason. She liked it. It felt steadfast; reliable somehow. In a gruff tone that Claire still was not used to, Jamie looked about and said,

“Here we are. It’s no much, but ye may have its use as long as ye need it.”

Jamie carefully began to set down some of the load he had been carrying and went to work the door open. Claire stood outside, holding onto the rope she had around Clarence, a little uncertain about what to do next. She’d spend the last few nights living rough, as she had many times before as she travelled, and the luxury of her own Scottish croft so suddenly, was rather overwhelming. It seemed like an exceptionally generous gesture to her and she felt a small lump form in her throat for a moment. It had been a long time since she had had anything quite so considerate offered to her. 

Jamie soon appeared, ducking low out of the building, so as not to hit his head; took one look at her mangy, coughing mule and begrudgingly set about checking the stable for use, disappearing inside it. Calling after him, Claire wondered aloud,

“This is exceedingly kind, Mr Fraser, but are you absolutely sure that the Laird will be happy for me to be here? He doesn’t even know me!”

Jamie reappeared, scrutinising the structure still. Quietly, and without looking at her he reassured her,

“Aye, …it’ll be fine.”

Thinking out loud, she said,

“Maybe I should got to the manor and meet him? Introduce myself first.”

Jamie could feel the inside of his chest seize up in an instant, almost as if she had thrown a bucket of winter-cold loch water over him. With a muscle tensing in his jaw, he took a moment and then quietly told her,

“He’s no been here fir a long time...”

“Oh.” Claire was confused. Both by the revelation and the tension she felt in the air.

“Aye, well. Use it as ye see fit. We need tae start wie some firewood and water. If you begin wie unpackin’ inside, I’ll head tae the woods and sort them out fir ye.”

He did not wait for her response but took himself swiftly off on his self-appointed task. 

By the time that Jamie returned, Claire had Clarence unloaded and had him settled in the stable. She was carrying her belongings into the croft when Jamie hesitantly came in with an armful of firewood. He knelt by the old hearth and stacked the wood up for her, taking some of it to build a fire. Claire stood looking around, taking in the room, with her hands on her waist. There were some basic items in the room, a table, a bench, a chair, a sideboard, a cot. The cot would need stuffing again, but it would be a welcome relief from the nights of sleeping under a bush, that was for sure!

As Jamie got the fire going and brough her some water, Claire had her few belongings unpacked and set about dealing with her herbs and tinctures; the sideboard would be a good place for them all for now. 

With Clarence sorted and most of her things unpacked, Claire’s attentions turned to food. She had nothing on hand for a hot meal but remembered that she had some cheese, bread, and an apple somewhere. Just as she set about looking for it, Jamie stood up and back from the sound fire that he had begun. Realising that he was alone with this strange woman inside her new dwelling and feeling a wave of discomfort too complicated in that moment to consider, he headed for the door with an abrupt,

“I’ll be takin’ my leave then.”

Somehow panicked at the sudden thought of being alone, Claire rushed forward and pleaded,

“Oh no, Mr Fraser, please don’t leave!”

_Beauchamp! You have spent the last 2 years travelling this island alone! Why on earth are you suddenly worried about being on your own?! Pull yourself together! You are going to scare him off!_

_Wait… why are you worried about scaring him off?!_

_Oh, will you listen to yourself! It is not like that at all!_

“I…er, I haven’t thanked you properly. I…I really am incredibly grateful for your assistance and your kindness.”

Jamie froze near the door at her words. Compliments and praise were not easy bedfellows for him these days. Without turning back or looking at her he told her,

“It wis nae bother. Truly.” 

Keen to repay him in some way, Claire encouraged him to stay a while longer,

“Um, let me at least give you something to eat, just to show my thanks. I’m afraid I don’t have very much…”

She turned away from him to look down at her meagre scraps, looking back she continued,

“…but you are very welcome to share…”

But he was gone.

“Oh.”

In usual circumstances, Claire would have been rather indignant at his poor manners; she had a real issue with rudeness. However, she found in this moment that she was just disappointed; disappointed that he had gone. She sat down on the cot where she had been rummaging for the food and simply looked about her.

_What now?_

She gave herself a firm reprimand and the rumble in her stomach encouraged her to stand and prepare her small meal. No sooner had she laid out a cloth onto the table, than there was a bang on the door. Claire jumped at the sudden noise and slowly made her way to the door, curious as to who would be knocking.

She opened it cautiously to begin with and was surprised to see Jamie had returned with a pot of some kind. She noticed that he did not really look her in the eye and seemed quite unhappy about standing there as if he had been forced to do so against his will. He explained,

“I’ve a little rabbit stew left over. It’s no much, but ye look like ye havenae had a hot meal in a while.”

He held out the pot to her, waiting for her to take it.

“That is so kind, Mr Fraser. I am touched, really, but I cannot possibly take your dinner away from you. _Please_ come in and share it with me. I have a little bread we could put with it.”

Jamie stood still thinking and breathing, it seemed. Finally, he gave a curt nod and accepted her gesture for him to enter again.

For the next short while, they busied themselves getting things ready to eat. Had they both felt comfortable enough to relax, they would have observed that they worked well together; Jamie warmed the stew on the hearth; Claire cleaned and readied the table for them to dine. When the stew was ready and Jamie had dished it up, he sat on the bench, letting Claire take the chair, trying to respect that he was her guest, and this was now her house.

Claire brought them each some water to drink and ignored the chair, choosing instead to sit at the other end of the bench to Jamie. They were in no danger of touching, such as the bench was, but the move startled Jamie who never would have expected such a thing from a respectable lady such as Mistress Beauchamp appeared to be. Further surprising him was the fact that she had given them both water to drink. Such a strange practise.

Through their shared food, which tasted delicious to Claire having been short on meals in recent days, she tried to talk to Jamie to get to know him. He was very much not interested in not only talking about himself, but almost in not talking at all. In fact, she had the distinct impression from him that if they simply sat there in silence, he would finally be happy. _What on earth has made you so irritable, you miserable old man?!_

Finally, Claire asked Jamie to tell her about the village of Broch Murdha. Despite his continued reluctance, there was the smallest hint of, well, it almost seemed like pride, when he spoke about the village. He clearly knew all about its history. Claire very nearly saw him let a half-smile show on his face, but the moment was so fleeting that it was gone before she had time to really see it. She managed to get a few minutes more conversation from him and then she asked him if he would take her down to the village to show her around in the morning.

At this, Jamie stiffened up and his face fell slack. In a low tone, he refused,

“Naw, I dinnae go intae the village these days; save as when I cannae help it. Naw.”

Confused and somewhat surprised at such an odd situation, Claire pushed him on why.

“Surely you must go into the village some time? Please, take me there.”

Trying for a wittier approach, she offered,

“Come on, Mr Fraser! You can’t let me down!”

She had clearly misjudged him though as with this last comment, he stared into the fire as he seemed to battle with his anger at her comment. He threw down the spoon, his stew gone and abruptly stood up. He hesitated a moment as he stood.

And then, he simply left. 

_Shit! Well done Beauchamp!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work has been a bit manic so struggled to get this chapter down. I hope you enjoy it. More stuff planned for these two!


	11. A little Lavender Ointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire wonders whether she should return his stew pot....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Surely you must go into the village some time? Please, take me there.”  
> Trying for a wittier approach, she offered,  
> “Come on, Mr Fraser! You can’t let me down!”  
> She had clearly misjudged him though as with this last comment, he stared into the fire as he seemed to battle with his anger at her comment. He threw down the spoon, his stew gone and abruptly stood up. He hesitated a moment as he stood.
> 
> And then, he simply left. 
> 
> Shit! Well done Beauchamp!

After pulling herself away from Jamie long enough to get dressed, Claire tried taming her curls but promptly gave it up as a lost cause. Jamie had already tended to his own animals before breakfast and Claire realised with a jolt that it was time that she sorted out her own – especially as she hadn’t been back to her own croft since the previous morning.

They agreed that they would take a walk there before heading into the woods for Jamie to check his snares again. Neither wanted to leave the other’s company and so they made plans to complete both together and spend the day with one another.

Once they had strolled over to Claire’s homestead hand in hand, they got on with the everyday jobs that keeping a home required. It was a journey that took double the time that it should have done as they ended up stopping every few minutes to kiss and then smile bashfully at one another. It felt wonderful to Claire walking along with her arm around Jamie’s waist; resting her head on his shoulder whenever her smile became too much to contain. For Jamie, it was a poignant walk that saw _his_ smile accompanied regularly with a lump in his throat at how thankful he was that she came into his life and just how close it had been that they be lost to one another forever, during those early days. 

As Jamie set about seeing to the animals that Claire had; and whilst Claire took up a seat on her cherished bench with a selection of her herbs and plants, he began to hear her singing a familiar song under her breath. It was a song that he had heard only once before but it had beguiled him then, as it did now and he would never forget it. He wanted to ask her about it but he realised that she wasn’t aware that he had heard it the first time and how to tell her… Pulling himself from his own lost thoughts, he looked over at her and realised that she too looked reflective.

“Where are ye, lass?”

Claire had not realised that he was quite so close, so she started a bit. Then, looking down at the herbs she was bagging up she sighed,

“Oh, I was just thinking about how happy I am and yet, how very close I came to messing the whole thing up…repeatedly!” She swallowed tentatively, less the fear overpower her.

Jamie looked at her in confusion.

“What are ye talkin’ about, Claire?”

Claire gathered her herbs together in the large plate that she had been working them in and placed it on the bench beside her.

“Oh, Jamie, when I think about how badly I misjudged things when we first met – I said so many things that must have hurt you deeply; touched so many raw nerves, it’s no wonder you kept walking away so angry!”

Jamie stepped around her, lifted the plate out of the way and promptly sat next to her. Putting his hand behind her and caressing her back, much like she had seen him do to Clarence, he reassured her,

“Dinnae fash, Claire. The fault wasnae yours; it wis mine. I shouldnae have been so sensitive an’ proud.”

He paused and let out a long sigh. Quietly, he continued,

“The truth is that ye challenged me; every time I saw ye, ye dragged me kickin’ an’ screamin’ out of the prison I’d built fir myself, believin’ that I wis only protectin’ myself. When the truth was that I wis hidin’, like a scared wee beastie. It wis pathetic an’ it shames me tae even think on it now!”

Even in the short time since they had opened themselves to one another, it was becoming clear to Claire that one of the things that she loved so much was this beautiful dance they were developing of buoying one another up in a wonderfully harmonious way. She could tell now that it was her turn,

“You know Jamie, in all the time that I’ve known you, I never saw you as pathetic. Never. You know… from the moment we met…it _pained_ me when you left.”

He winced at her words, removing his hand from her back and leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Christ, Claire, dinnae make me feel worse. I acted like such a fool, runnin’ away aw the time. Such a coward!” He turned his head away from her. This was the first time that Claire had heard that cruel tone that he used on himself reappear since he had opened up to her, and she was not having it. She grabbed his arm and told him,

“Stop, Jamie! You have not been a coward! A lesser man would have been _crushed_ by what you went through. But, my love, it didn’t beat you; it knocked you down for sure but look, you are still here! No, that is not what I meant. What I _meant_ was that even before I realised myself; even before I could put it into words, the _emptiness_ I felt whenever you left was…intense. Even at the start. You annoyed me; you confused me; irritated me; frustrated me; yes and yet whenever you left, it was like you took the sun with you and I was left to live in the dark again.”

Her beautiful heartfelt words floored him. She continued,

“Can I ask you a question?”

Shaking his head in wonder at this incredible woman, he whispered,

“Anythin’!”

Claire smiled shyly; hesitating whilst looking up and down from her hands to his face. She took a deep breath and asked,

“What made you suddenly come back all those days later after the mess I made of returning your pot?”

*********

**_Flashback_**

The empty stew pot that Mr Fraser had brought the night before was sat glaring up at Claire from her tidy table. It almost seemed to scream aloud to her, taunting her somehow; reminding her of how she made such a mess of things. She spent the first few hours in the morning pottering around it, her gaze regularly falling on it and each time this returned her thoughts to how things had ended between them the night before. She barely knew this man and yet she was so deeply troubled by how he had left. She felt such confusion. _Was it my impulsiveness that was to blame or was his reaction unusually extreme?_

Ultimately though, the thought she kept returning to was: _Should I return the pot?_ Mr Fraser had explained to her where his own croft was in relation to hers, so she could certainly find him but, she was not sure that he would be happy to see her. Each time she came close to a decision, her doubts resurfaced, she huffed loudly and found another job to distract herself with.

*****

Jamie spent the brisk morning as he always did, tending to his animals and land, after seeing to the house. He was particularly irritable this morning as he found that he had not been able to sleep last night; he had spent the night tossing and turning unable to get comfortable but in truth, the real problems was that he was embarrassed about how disrespectfully he had left Mistress Beauchamp’s house the night before; he knew that he had acted like a petulant child; and he felt so foolish. For some unfathomable reason, he could not bear the thought of her thinking ill of him. _Yet another thing tae add tae ma list o’ failures. All she did wis ask ye tae show her around the village, ye eejit!_

Jamie knew what would happen, what always happened, if he went to the village. This was why he tended to stay away; 9-and-a-half years was not long enough for anyone to forget, least of all him. The thought of her finding out, let alone being there when she did, was horrid. It filled him with a cold, creeping fear every time he pictured what people might say to her about him.

Mistress Beauchamp had appeared in his life only the day before and her arrival had felt like a bracing whirlwind descending into his quiet, ordered life, knocking everything askew. She annoyed the hell out of him, that was for sure! What he was not quite ready to accept though was that what she _actually_ challenged in him was the safe and solitary life he had carved out for himself. It was like she instinctively knew he was born for….more; expected _more_ of him.

*****

Claire had had enough of feeling sorry for herself and decided to take a trip off into the village. She was used to having to fend for herself and a few hours of moping about ended with her giving herself a good talking to _Up off your arse, Beauchamp! What are you waiting for? A knight in shining armour to do it all for you?! No, that will not do!_

She packed her bag with some of her medicines; brought it up over her head and laid it securely onto her right shoulder. She hesitated and glanced at the pot but ultimately, she left it where it sat. She departed the croft clearly on a mission; she had had many fresh starts on her journeys; this was simply just another one.

Two minutes later, the door to the croft flew open again and she stomped back in. Without pause, she grabbed the pot and with a swish of her skirt she was back out. 

*****

Jamie set about skinning one of the rabbits he had snared the day before. It was a job he had done so many times before that he had lost count and so he couldn’t help his mind drifting to those first moments the previous day when he had seen her from afar, before she had known he was there. The untamed hair that framed her face; the odd moves she had made; the weariness with which she had sat next to her mule; the indignation at his suggestion that the beast was past saving and should be put out of his misery. Then, the memory of her beautiful pale thigh gradually being revealed came back especially clearly to him and despite the cold morning, he felt a rising heat radiate through him. _If only she had hitched her skirts just a wee bit higher?_ _Dear God! It has been such a long time since…What wid I have done if I’d caught a glimpse o’ her sweet honey…._

“Good Morning, Mr Fraser!” 

“Ifrinn! …Ow!”

The shock of her intruding onto his salacious thoughts in person, by appearing around the corner of his cottage so unexpectedly had caused him to catch his hand with the sharp knife he had been using to gut the rabbit. Utterly mortified at his indiscretion, even if it was just within his private thoughts, he turned away from her ashamed of his obvious arousal, fearing that it was visible, and quickly pulled off his stock, using it to stem the bleeding. He had cut an inch-long gash across his palm, right on the fleshy part of his thumb.

“Oh bloody hell! I am so sorry Mr Fraser; I really did not mean to startle you! Gosh, I do seem to be making a habit of causing you injury…”

Her voice trailed off at the end and Claire tried very hard to ignore the quickening of her heart as she spied that small triangle of flesh at the top of his shirt, now that he had removed his stock. Stealing a peek at the small divot that sat atop his clavicle made her stomach clench. Claire looked away and then down at his hand in an attempt to hide the flush appearing on her cheeks from him. _Could he see her blood all rush south?!_ She quickly noticed the damage he had done to himself and switched into nurse mode,

“Oh goodness, let me help you, that looks like a nasty cut!”

She made to reach out to take his hand in hers; an action she had done thousands of times during her career. However, to her utter bemusement, Jamie recoiled from her before she had even touched him and staggered away to the bench under his window. He clutched his bloodied hand to his torso as he sat.

“No! Dinnae touch me!” Jamie cried at her with an unexpected urgency. The sudden proximity of another was such a rare thing that it still unnerved him. 

“Mr Fraser, I am a trained healer. We have to clean it; you’ve been cutting raw meat with that blade; I have to be sure your hand doesn’t become inflamed!”

The healer in her was too powerful an urge to stop.

“Christ, Woman! Let me be! I’m fine! I’ll tend tae it maself!” He bellowed at her. 

_Here we go again! Stubborn man!_ Claire thought and rolled her eyes.

Whilst this odd scene played out in front of her, a small part of Claire’s brain couldn’t help notice that the bench was a twin to the one she had at her own dwelling; this little detail gave her a small sense of comfort for some unexpected reason. 

Perhaps that was why she felt brave enough to give it one last shot with him. That and the fact that he was calming quite quickly now that he appeared to realise just how extreme his reaction must have seemed to her. 

“Well, at least let me put some of this on…”

Claire reached into her bag and brought out a little clay jar with some lavender ointment in it. He looked on with clear apprehension. It took a few seconds for the aroma to reach Jamie’s nose, as Claire rubbed it over her fingers to soften the balm. Soon enough though and with a strangled cry, Jamie leapt back on the bench, almost pushing himself up the wall of the cottage. He managed to make himself stand and looking at her hands as if they contained some sort of danger charged to explode; he pressed himself against the wall next to the bench and inched himself to the door, his chest heaving and face full of panic.

“Just go!” He growled at her, mortified that he was acting in such a fearful way before her.

In a few moments, and to Claire’s complete bewilderment, he ran into the house and slammed the door behind him.

She noticed that he had inadvertently smeared his blood all along the wall of the building. 

Feeling suddenly quite defeated; her resolve broke and Claire turned and dropped onto the bench. She lifted her head and looked out at the wonderful vista; not really seeing any of it though as she became lost in the overwhelming feeling that every step she seemed to take here was wrong and for some unknown reason it affected her deeply. _Why do I care about what this churlish old man thinks of me? Why is it so hard to walk away though? He has made it very obvious that he wishes me to leave him be!_ _Yes, he has made that perfectly plain since the moment I met him!_

Despite feeling unexplainably bereft, she couldn’t help but find him captivating; something about this man drew her near and rendered her unable to leave; as if somehow to do so would be a profoundly poor decision; as if…as if their _future_ depended on it. Claire had become used to relying on her gut instincts – they had only let her down on a few rare occasions.

_With disastrous results, mind!_

_Yes, yes – like I could forget!_

The question of course was could she rely on her instincts now?

Claire listened closely for the inhabitant of the house; not an easy task with such thick walls, she couldn’t hear anything to indicate that he was moving about. She let out a deep sigh and searching in her bag, Claire found a cloth and wiped the ointment from her hands. Then, standing up, she found a little willow bark that she had wrapped up in a modest burlap bag; it was one of a number she had been planning on selling in town. The bag had a small tag around it where she had written instructions for making a tea. She sat the pouch in the pot that had caused all this upset in the first place and set it all down on the bench for Mr Fraser to find when he eventually ventured out again.

Inside the cottage, Jamie saw her through his small window. She turned to face the door, smoothing her skirts as she did; he was far enough into the cottage that she could not see him watching.

“I am sorry to have caused you such distress, Mr Fraser.” She called out.

“I've taken the ointment away. I will go and I'll leave you now…. I only really wanted to return your pot and to thank you for the kindness you have shown me. I seem to be making rather a habit of annoying you; …I am sorry about that. I will take my leave and not disturb you any longer… Take care, Mr Fraser."

Jamie saw her turn and take a few steps away but then she stopped; turning back, she searched in her bag once more and removed something else, which she seemed to place on the bench too. With that, she cast her eyes down to the ground and swept away unaware of the true level of devastation she had left in her wake. Jamie was all too aware though and her disarming words of apology left him bereft, with more heartache and self-loathing to add to his already heavy load. 

After a safe amount of time, Jamie slowly opened the door and stepped out. His curiosity at what she had left for him had finally got the better of him. He walked over to the bench and found his pot, thoroughly cleaned. Looking inside he saw that she had left him some willow bark tea for any pain he might have. He picked up the little bag, his face expressionless, and gently rubbed his thumb over its surface, knowing that it had only recently been in her own kind hand. He looked back at the black pot and found a small sprig of blue flowers positioned delicately inside. Yet again this unusual woman had challenged him _and_ his notions but, she had also touched him deeply; moved him profoundly at such a small yet remarkable gesture.

Jamie felt a slight warmth develop inside at the unexpected token of friendship; he simply wasn’t used to this kind of thing and he did not know quite how to react to it; he was glad in that moment that she had gone. His soft gaze lifted and far across the valley; way past the village that was hidden from sight; the imposing and ever-present outline of Lallybroch asserted itself into his conscience once more and the warmth evaporated instantly. He snorted at the sight of it and threw the flowers aside, storming back into his croft and hurled the door shut…again.

The door remained closed until the winter sun began to set; the sky was filled with the most beautiful soft hues of yellow, orange and pink. Very quietly, unseen by a single other soul, the door opened, and a large hand reached down and gently gathered up the pretty little blue sprig.

The door quietly closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I ended up chopping this chapter into two as it hit nearly 8000 words before I'd finished it!
> 
> He's mortified at his actions; She's heartbroken about upsetting him again. Oooo, I love a bit of angst! 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. It shouldn't be as long before I post the second half...


	12. Lullaby to a Jitterbug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We begin still in flashback as a week has past since they last saw one another. Claire settles into the community a little and Jamie sees a vulnerable side to her that he hadn't realised was there, which spurs him on to help her. Of course, things are never quite plain sailing with these two....best laid plans and all that! 
> 
> Ending in their present day, they christen the outdoors with some very NSFW hotness!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up still being a long chapter but I couldn't bear splitting it up... so get yourself a cuppa and get comfy!
> 
> Previously....
> 
> The door remained closed until the winter sun began to set; the sky was filled with the most beautiful soft hues of yellow, orange and pink. Very quietly, unseen by a single other soul, the door opened, and a large hand reached down and gently gathered up the pretty little blue sprig. 
> 
> The door quietly closed.

**_FLASHBACK CONTD._ **

****

Over the next week, Claire took the matter into her own hands and made regular trips into the village alone. Soon enough, she began to enamour herself to the residents. She managed to sell a number of her different remedies each time she went and in offering to treat a number of ailments on her way, she was soon beginning to receive the odd visitor out at her homestead; the caller each time asking if she was the Sassenach healer. Some things never change!

The rest of her days were taken up with nursing Clarence; the closest thing she had to a friend, it seemed. Clarence had remained coughing and spluttering on the floor of his stable for days now, although he always seemed to cheer up whenever Claire appeared. Despite that, she was beginning to get worried that he wouldn’t recover. For the first time in a long while, she felt completely out of her depth and the inability to heal him was too much to bear.

Claire saw no trace of Mr Fraser in that time. In truth, she could not work out if she was glad of the peace or sad about it. One thing was for sure though; life was not the same and despite the anger and irritation that he seemed to feel towards her, those 24 hours of being near Mr Fraser had shifted something in Claire, permanently.

Her solitude in life had not bothered her for many a year…but it did now. Suddenly, there was no escape from the vast chasm of harsh and unrelenting loneliness that spread itself out before her like thick mist skirting the ground and no matter how hard she tried, there were moments when the fear it brought consumed her. Because the truth was that whilst she felt so far away somehow from where she belonged; when she actually stopped to think about where that might be, she did not know and _that_ was the scariest notion of all. 

It was during one of these overwhelming episodes that Jamie chanced upon Claire eight days after they had last met. Throughout the entire ordeal, because ordeal it was for him; seeing her in such a vulnerable and broken state; paralysed with fear lest she see him witnessing this heart-breaking scene, she never caught sight of him once.

Jamie had been foraging in the woods and having found himself at the north end of the woodland, he had turned and begun to head home. As always, he took a path towards what to him was one of the most enchanting places in the entire area around Broch Murdha. There was a steady river that flowed through the trees; he had come across it, literally, a number of times on the walk through his woods today alone and at his favourite part, just here, the water stretched out filling a large basin, as it cascaded down a small waterfall, before then meandering off downstream. There was shingle laid flat by the water’s edge and a number of large rocks were dotted amongst it. 

Jamie had always felt a deep spirit connection to…something ancient and otherworldly, here. He found comfort and solitude; a calming balm on his soul, on the days when his memories hit him hard. He was never really sure if it was down to his fond recollections of skiffing stones here with Ian, seeing who could make the most bounces; or whether it really was a sacred presence; old spirits free of both space and time. He quietly suspected that it was more the latter.

What struck Jamie first, as he stumbled upon her, was the beauty that radiated from Claire as she stood looking out at the water, seeming quite lost in her thoughts; very clearly somewhere far away from here in her mind. He marvelled at the shape of her chin; her slightly upturned nose; those wonderful darks curls; the way her cleavage rose gently above her jacket; the way her skirt cinched in at her waist. It was the first true moment of silence that he had observed from her and he found it intoxicating; it allowed him to truly see her…and she was dazzling. God, he could watch her for hours like this. She captivated him.

Without warning though, and to Jamie’s utter horror, Claire’s face quite suddenly crumpled; her chin hit her chest and her shoulders began to shake. The woven basket she had been holding fell to the ground and she collapsed onto the nearest rock by the water’s edge. Tears poured down her face and despite being some distance away, Jamie could hear her sobs from where he stood; his hand clutching the nearest tree to steady himself as his other hand rose to cover his mouth momentarily.

He felt utterly shameful at witnessing her upset, feeling like some sort of traitorous voyeur. There was nothing that he could do though; he could not make his presence known as she would be mortified and yet standing here knowing that she thought herself alone…well, that too seemed wrong. Suddenly, Claire began to talk; and it was clear immediately who she was talking to,

“Oh Papa! I so wish you were here with me. And Mama. It’s too hard, Papa; it’s too hard! I am so scared. I…I feel like I’ve been going through this all on my own and the only companion I have is Clarence and I don’t think I can save him…I think he’s going to end up leaving me too! I am a healer, godammit, and I don’t seem to be able to help him!”

Her voice rose at the end, clearly overcome by another wave of painful sadness.

“I know he might seem like just a ratty old mule to everyone else, but he’s been with me since, well, nearly since the start of all this… and I know it seems absurd, but he makes me feel less lonely. I’ve been on my own now for so long and it hurts, Papa. I try so hard to stay strong but sometimes its’ just too much! …I miss you so much! I would cut off my right arm to see you one last time, Papa! I would! To have you and Mama next to me; telling me not to worry; holding me close; sweeping my curls out of my face and smiling down at me. I miss you both so much! I…I just don’t think I can cope with another thing going wrong! I think it will end me. Help me, Papa! Please!”

She broke down again and clenching her left hand, it rose up and the back of it pressed against her mouth; trying and failing to halt the outpouring.

If Jamie had not witnessed what happened next with his own eyes, he would have dismissed the telling of it as the fanciful musings of an over-active imagination.

Quite suddenly and as if from absolutely nowhere, a sudden shaft of light shone down through a tiny gap in the grey clouds and it shone onto the rock right next to where Claire was seated, in a beam of dappled sunlight. Just on that one boulder, as if it were bringing a message directly from the heavens. As equally unexpectedly, a little brown bird landed on the bright rock, facing away from Claire. After a few seconds, she noticed it and it hopped around to face her. She smiled and laughed a little through her tears when she saw that it was a beautiful, red-breasted robin. With her eyes climbing up the shaft of light, she quietly said,

“I knew you were here, Papa. I knew you would hear me; you always hear me.”

Both Claire and Jamie watched in wonder; the charming little bird seeming to cock its head at her; at them both. Carrying through the air, Jamie began to hear Claire singing a sweet and halting little tune that was unlike anything he had ever heard before.

Do-do-do, do-do-do-do

Little jitterbug don’t cry

You’ll be swingin’ by and by

You are just a tiny tot

And until you’ve grown a lot

Your rattle will have to do

Little jitterbug go slow

You’ll be rockin’ ‘fore you know

Daddy won’t be home ‘til dawn

When he left, he took his horn

Someday you will have one too

If you’re like your Pa,

Sonny, you’ll go far

My you’ll look grand

Leadin’ a band

Foolish it may be

But this dream’s on me

And it’s for you

Make it come true

Little jitterbug it’s dawn

Why dream a dream of Daddy’s horn

If you’re good and go to sleep

He will give you one to keep

Little jitterbug go sleep

When her song finished, the robin gave one loud whinny and flew off. Claire watched it go with a smile on her face looking as if her load was a little lighter somehow. After a few more minutes Jamie could see her wipe away her tears and steel herself. She then reached for her basket, stood up and walked off.

Seeing her so vulnerable had had a deep effect on Jamie. He recognised what it was to feel so painfully alone and overwhelmed. He never dreamed that the precocious Mistress Beauchamp would have found herself feeling that way. Having witnessed such a miraculous sight at the end of it; seeing how her resilience had returned when that little bird had turned and looked up at her, Jamie resolved to do the one thing that he felt he could to ease this brave woman’s load; in lieu of her father; he would do what he could to help her save Clarence. 

******

The day after, Jamie made his way around to Claire’s croft and finding the place empty, he headed for the barn, where he could hear a painful dry cough emitting. Inside, he found Clarence, lying down on what looked like a rather old and thin layer of straw. Jamie crouched down and when Clarence saw him, he tried to get up, annoyed that the grumpy old man that had upset his mistress was back to bother them again. His strength was sapped though, and the movement caused a great coughing attack to hit; his throat feeling so raw and sore. Jamie rushed to Clarence’s side and kneeling down on one leg, he placed one hand on his withers and ran the other up and down his head, above his muzzle.

“Hold air, an seann duine! Fois fhèin. Feumaidh tu do neart airson an t-sabaid. Cha dèan mi cron ort ... no air do bhana-mhaighstir. Tha mi an seo gus cuideachadh. _Hold on, old man! Rest yerself. Ye need yer strength for the fight. I willnae harm ye...or yer mistress. I am here tae help.”_

Clarence settled under Jamie’s experienced touch; the fight beginning to leave him. Jamie’s help was such a welcome, if unexpected, balm; his large hands working some sort of gentle magic on Clarence and after a short while he could feel himself and his chest settle somewhat. Jamie continued talking words of comfort and reassurance to Clarence,

“Chì mi thu, a charaid. Tha mi gad fhaicinn. Chan fhàg mi thu. Chriosd, tha i air nach do dh'atharraich do feòir ann greis, tha i? Chì mi chun sin. Gheibh sinn thu cuid de dh'fhìor-uisge agus cuid Soften feòir _I see ye, my friend. I see ye. I wilnae leave ye. Christ, she’s no changed yer bed in a while, has she? I'll see tae that. We’ll get ye some fresh water an’ some soften hay...”_

For the first time, Jamie looked deep into Clarence’s eye, as the old mule stared back at him. Jamie could see true knowing in there and he was beginning to understand in that moment why Claire found this unsuspecting old beast to be of such great importance to her.

Jamie slowly moved away from Clarence and looked around to see if there were any more provisions that he could use to get the valued mule more comfortable. He began by re-filling his water; there was a small stream that ran at the back of the property, so it was only a short walk. When this was done, he helped Clarence to his feet and guided him to the water.

Quickly, as Clarence was trying his best to swallow, Jamie swept out the old straw and spread around a nice thick bed for Clarence to rest on. All the while, Jamie stroked him and whispered unknown Gaelic comforts to him. Jamie loved having the feel of a good animal near him. It brought him precious solace and companionship with no great expectations back; animals were infinitely less complicated than his fellow man. Very rapidly under Jamie’s expert hand, Clarence seemed to forget he was ever cross at this unexpectedly kind figure.

Jamie looked around for some fresh hay for Clarence to eat but he could not see any – Claire must have run out. He knew that he had plenty in his own homestead and so, reassuring Clarence that he would be back soon, he took his leave and headed home for a time.

Completely oblivious to one another, Claire returned to her home moments later and headed straight into the barn to see her only friend,

“Hello old man! It is so good to see you! I’ve got someone heading over a little later with some fresh food for you! His wife had a boil on her… well, you don’t really want to know where the boil was. Anyway, it has been cleaned and lanced and Mr Hunter is paying me in hay!”

As Claire continued to chatter away to Clarence she completed missed the arrival of a visitor to her home, that is until said visitor stood in the doorway of the stable, which at that precise moment, Claire had her back to. The hulking frame of her visitor completely blocked out the light and with that a sudden dark horror descended on Claire.

In that moment, she was sucked back to her nightmare and the panic began to rise instantly. She let out a piercing scream as her body scrabbled to gain friction on the ground to escape. At last her feet found purchase and barging past the confused beast in the frame, she ran out as if her life depended on it and in that moment, she truly believed that it did. She hollered,

“No! Not again! Get out of my way! No! Get away from me!”

As she had made it past the sudden presence, into the wide open of her land, her brain caught up with her body and she stopped running. She was covered in an instant sweat and the adrenaline in her body made her acutely aware of everything around her. Heaving the cold air into her lungs she staggered to the bench and fell on to it. Bending forward, she fought to find her breath and calm her heart and mind. She whispered reassuring words to herself,

“It’s ok. It’s over! It’s over! It’s not the same! It’s not the same!”

Her eyes had been squeezed shut for minute upon minute, as she repeated her mantra to make the fear abate, rocking backwards and forwards. Gradually, she opened her eyes, first staring at the ground and then, noticing a pair of dirty, worn boots standing just within her eye-line, she followed them up and found them attached to a body - _bloody Mr Fraser!_

He had a look of stunned shock on his face; his arms full of hay for some reason; his body standing still.

“A Dhia ghràdhach! Dè thachair dhut, a nighean? Dè an ifrinn a bha sin mu dheidhinn? _Dear God! What happened to you, lass? What did they do to ye?_ ” He whispered.

“What’s that? What did you say?” Claire gasped, still fighting for her breath, lifting her head in the air.

“Oh, sorry, Mistress Beauchamp. I hadnae realised I wis…I said…are you ok? I am sorry if I scared ye. It wisnae ma intention.”

He told a small white lie about what he had said but the unguarded words of his heart had slipped out without him realising it and he would not let himself repeat the error. In her embarrassment at her state and her surprise at seeing Mr Fraser again after what seemed like a long time ( _was it really only nine days?_ ) Claire was a little shorter in her tone than she meant to be.

“I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

Jamie’s jaw tensed at her curt response; the instinct he had developed in recent years resurfaced immediately and his next words were back to his usual brusque manner.

“Aye well, I’m here tae sort yer beast oot fir ye. Christ, he hadnae even a decent bed o’ straw tae lay in when I got here earlier. Let alone have food fir him tae eat. Honestly, woman, have ye no idea how tae look after yer beast?”

“As a matter of fact, Mr Fraser, I have just returned from the village with a good amount of hay on its way to me later, thank you very much! I am perfectly capable of looking after my ‘beast’, as you put it.”

Claire’s confidence ran out just before she had finished answering him back with as much indignation as she could muster. _Who am I kidding? I have no idea how to help Clarence and I am so out of my depth here!_

It almost seemed as if Jamie had picked up on this as he cast his eyes down and thumbing back at the stable, he continued in a slightly less acerbic tone,

“Aye, well…I’ve given him water an’ a fresh bed. Here is some o’ my hay. Ye’ll want tae soak it a bit afore ye give it tae him. It’ll make it a wee bit easier fir him tae swallow wie his bad throat. It’s probably fair raw inside!”

Claire was rendered speechless in that moment. A rare occurrence. She hadn’t seen Mr Fraser in over a week and the last time that they had met, well, they both remembered that embarrassing episode and yet here he was tending to a beast only a week ago he was pulling his pistol out on to mercy-shoot dead! Claire was astounded.

Jamie seemed to read something of the ilk from her face and it reminded him of how vulnerable she had looked the day before by the water.

“I’ve met wie yer beast and we’ve had a talk, man tae…mule. I wis wrong tae suggest ye be rid of him. I can see that he is a fine beast. Dinnae fash, Mistress – the cough sounds worse than it is. Let’s get this hay set tae soakin’ an’ then we can feed him. You’ll see, he’ll bounce back afore ye ken it.”

Not yet feeling able to move herself from the bench, and despite feeling greatly calmed by Mr Fraser’s reassuring words, Claire watched as he continued to tend to Clarence. She could not deny that there was something reassuring about having someone else around to see to some of the jobs that needed doing. He clearly knew his way around a stable and hearing him talk in such a calming manner to Clarence, even though she couldn’t understand the language, softened her heart a little more and helped the terror she had been feeling dissipate back into the ether.

Once the work was completed, Jamie came out of the stable and slowed his walk. He was a little unsure how to proceed now that there was no more work for him to do.

“Well, Mistress Beauchamp, that’s yer beast seen tae. I…er…I’ll be headin’ off now. Let me know if ye need any more help wie him but gie it a few days an’ ye should start tae see a marked improvement… Good day, Mistress.”

And he began to walk off.

As seemed to happen every time he made to leave her, a sudden urgency arose in Claire to prolong the encounter and before she could stop herself she had hastily asked him to stay for a cup of tea: her way of thanking him for his kindness. He wavered at the offer, but then gave a hesitant nod and, she was sure, a brief crooked smile too.

_Now then Beauchamp. This time, try and not piss the man off so he runs a mile! Yes?_

Conversation was a little stilted, both of them being rather nervous of the other still, but they made it through to the end of their cups and without giving voice to it, they both felt a slight thawing of the atmosphere between them; a truce.

Jamie reached for Claire’s cup and stood up to clean them at the back of the house in the stream for her, a gesture not unnoticed by Claire. She took this time to think about how she might word to him the request that she had; she wondered if he might join her for some food later that day. She stood up readying herself to take the plunge as soon as he returned but as she stood, she saw Mr Hunter heading up towards her croft with the hay he had promised her in payment for his wife’s boil treatment. He was a small wiry old man with a head of brown hair in need of a thorough wash and a scraggly beard to match. His rather hairy legs and dirty knobbly knees on display as he swept up the track in his kilt. 

“Gid efternoon tae ye Mistress! Yer hay, as promised! Ye did a fine job o’ Mrs Hunter’s boil, so ye did! She’s still in a bit o’ pain but is awready feelin’ much better since ye treated her! I must say, it’s fine tae see ye makin’ use o’ the old Crombie croft – it’s no been home tae anyone since old Granny Crombie passed o’er, oh… a fair few years ago noo. Ye’ve made it look grand!”

Claire liked Mr Hunter and his recognition of her hard work around the place was very welcome. She smiled and replied,

“Oh yes, well, you know Mr Fr…”

She turned to introduce Mr Fraser to Mr Hunter in acknowledgement of his role in informing her of the vacancy but even though he should have returned from the stream by now, he was nowhere to be seen. Surprised, Claire walked over to the side of her croft and found the 2 cups on the ground just to the side of the building, and Mr Fraser gone. _What the hell? Where has he gone this time?!_

Turning back to her most recent guest, confused, she said,

“Oh, I was just going to introduce you to Mr Fraser. Well, I’m sure you probably already know him. You see…”

But suddenly Mr Hunter’s demeaner changed and his face clouded over. Interrupting her, he queried,

“Fraser? He wis here?”

A sound of …disgust seemed to burst from Mr Hunter’s mouth.

“Aye, well, ye want tae careful o’ _Mr_ Fraser, mistress. Cannae be trusted, that one! Will let ye doon; as soon as look at ye! Mind yersel’ wie him, aye? Nae good comes fae trustin’ that man! Mark ma words! Gid day, Mistress Beauchamp!”

And with that he dropped the hay, and turned to stomp off back to the village, his trip to the Sassenach healer leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

As with most of her time so far with Mr Fraser, here was yet another confusing moment. She really did not understand what had just happened. However, despite the afternoon ending in further drama, Claire at least felt that there was a slight warming of Mr Fraser’s temperament; like a new key finally beginning to turn a little in a sticky lock. After all, she was pretty sure she hadn’t put her foot in it and been the one to annoy him this time.

_Had she?_

**_Flashback ends_ **

****

*******

The time it took for the telling of both sides of the story had seen them take in most of the journey through the woods to check the traps. It was rare to find anyone else in these woods and they both enjoyed the privacy it afforded them. Claire smiled at Jamie as she held on to his arm.

“So that is why you came back after my disastrous attempt to help you when you cut yourself!”

Jamie smiled back at her, pulling her closer to his side as they walked.

“Aye… Ye ken, that first time I saw ye here, I heard ye singin’ a most unusual song. It wis somethin’ about a…a jitterbug? I heard ye singin’ the same thing today.”

It was now or never, Jamie thought, as he asked her about the song.

Claire blushed and stepped out of Jamie’s grasp, reaching for a fern leaf. 

“Oh, that? It was just a song from my own…well, from when I was younger. I lost my parents when I was about five years old; I can’t remember much about them. Now don’t laugh, but I suppose I always fancied that they would have sung a song like that to me. I loved it from the first time I heard it. It’s called “Lullaby to a Jitterbug”."

Jamie reached out his strong hand and took her fingers in his, rubbing the top of her knuckles in comfort.

“5 years old…Christ, that must have been…well, I cannae even begin tae imagine whit it must have been like tae lose yer parents as such a wee lassie. Who cared fir ye after they passed?”

Claire explained all about Uncle Lamb and the unusual life filled with wonderful adventures he took her on, as they stood in a particularly secluded spot in the woods. Jamie could see that Uncle Lamb sounded like quite an amazing man.

“Where is he now, Claire? Is he still alive?”

Claire looked up at Jamie, so happy to hear him interested in the other man she had had in her life. Softly, she broke it to him,

“No. He’s not alive. He died about…10 years ago…He would have loved you Jamie. I wish you could have met him.”

Jamie would have loved nothing more and the sadness he felt for her made his heart physically ache. Not only had she lost her parents at an unforgivably young age, but then she had lost the father figure that had replaced them. Grief: the price we pay for love.

Realising that the atmosphere had become quite maudlin, Claire attempted to lighten the mood. Stepping into his body and resting her hands on his solid chest she looked up with hooded eyes,

“So, you came back because you heard me sing and couldn’t get enough?”

Jamie brought his arms around her and with a low voice he looked at her lips and said,

“Oh, I couldnae get enough, that wis fir sure, but it wis no sae much yer vocal cords that caught ma attention, if I’m honest!”

Laughing at his flirtatious comment and feeling herself stir at his confident air, Claire responded by pressing her lower body against his. Jamie held her in his arms and began to guide her back until she was against a large rough tree trunk. He pinned her there. Whispering, Claire asked,

“Well, Mr Fraser, if it wasn’t my vocal cords; what exactly was it that _did_ catch your attention?”

Jamie slowly licked his lips and lightly bit his lower one, whilst still looking at Claire’s.

“Aye, well, Mistress Beauchamp-soon-to-be-Fraser, the first thing I noticed wis yer massive….”

He smiled at her as he spoke; she gave him a you’re-a-brave-man-using-that-word look.

He chuckled, hovering his open-mouthed smile over Claire’s mouth, not quite touching and then continuing,

“…head of brown curls.”

She nudged him in the ribs as he let out a gravelly laugh. She loved seeing him laugh – his face lit up and his eyes sparkled. Enjoying his memories, he continued,

“Then seeing ye do yer strange movements wie yer breasts strainin’ an’ nearly escapin’ yer shift wie each bounce, drove me wild; I wanted ye so badly.”

Jamie kissed her firmly on the mouth and then began to trail kisses down her jawline and neck as he smoothed his hands over her ribcage ( _Christ, his soft stubble was exquisite against her neck!_ ) and carried on reminiscing,

“Oh, Christ an’ when ye bent over an’ drew up yer skirt so yer pearly white thigh wis on display…”

Claire’s pupils were dilating as she met Jamie’s eye, her breath leaving her. She hadn’t known he had seen _that_! He smirked and leaned in again to whisper in a deep tone,

“Ye made me so hard, lass…I didnae want ye tae stop liftin’ it…I couldnae help maself fae wonderin’ if yer honeypot wis the same dark shade.” 

Claire felt herself fill to the brim with sexual energy and could not resist the urge to press her own drenched heat against his reassuringly firm shaft. Even through their layers it felt incredible and Jamie let out a low rumble in response.

“Was that the first time you wanted me?” She whispered, hoarsely.

“God, yes!” He busied himself kissing and biting her neck, breathing in her herbal scent, as their lower bodies began to grind against one another and then asked, suddenly desperate to know,

“What about you? When did ye first want me, lass?”

“Oh that, well, I have a _very_ vivid recollection of the first time we met too. Especially of looking deep into those incredible eyes of yours, like twin oceans of blue. I had to stop myself from grabbing your collar and holding you steady, so I could happily drown in them there and then.”

Knowing exactly what he was doing Jamie gave her a piercing gaze and said,

“Grab away…mistress!”

Instead of grabbing his jacket though, Claire grabbed his arse and pulled it even closer to her body, needing more. Jamie’s breath caught and she felt his steel rod twitch and taunt her. Enjoying the tease at this point, Jamie asked her,

“Carry on talkin’, lass. You’re doin’ all manner o’ things tae me wie aw yer wee words. Wit else did ye see that ye liked?”

Claire took a hand from his backside and moved it to grab the curls at the back of his head tightly, Jamie grunted, and his noises alone were making Claire so ready for him. She began ghosting his neck with her lips as she continued her erotic thoughts.

“I recall having a fine view of your magnificent arse as well! I love a man with a strong arse – keeps his trousers up and it’s something to hold on to!”

She gave it another squeeze in approval as she spoke. Suddenly, another pleasurable memory surfaced, and she groaned,

“But when I returned your stew pot and you cut your hand, Christ, Jamie! The sight of your suprasternal notch…”

Jamie had just bent down to kiss Claire more when she said this. He stopped and looked at her with confusion.

“Ma what? Yer making that up! That’s no a real thing!” 

“I am not! Otherwise known as your fossa jugularis sternalis.” Claire said proudly. Slowly, she reached up and lay two of her fingers in the notch on his throat,

“This little bit right here. Oh, Jamie, I could have stripped you naked then and there, just to feel you harden against me as I licked you right…here.”

Jamie swallowed at how bold his lass was. The novelty of it thrilling him further still.

She leaned over and licked him right in that little dip that had driven her mad with wanting. Jamie moaned in pleasure again. This wonderful woman was such a mixture of confidence and vulnerability and it made him throb painfully to know that she was his.

Looking up into his dilated eyes, she sighed and asked him,

“Do you want me now, Jamie? Do you _really_ want me?”

Jamie growled his answer “Lass, ye ken I do!” and his body innately thrust towards her again to make its point. 

“Mmm…I want you too! Take me now, Jamie – hard and fast!”

“Here? Are ye sure, lass? I mean…honestly?”

“Yes. Yes, Jamie. I want you here and now.”

_Christ, he loved how daring she was!_

Unable to contain their joint need any longer; her words had acted like a long-anticipated spark to a flame, they confirmed with their burning eyes that this was what they both wanted and as Jamie undid the buttons on his trousers; Claire lifted her skirts out of the way. He held her thigh firm and high as she lifted it to his waiting hand and in one solid thrust, Jamie filled her to her core, and the unsatiated lust that he had been tempering for months began once again to thunder out of him. Claire cried out in pleasure at the welcome invasion deep within her centre, as Jamie gasped at the warmth enveloping around his throbbing length.

Setting himself to his task, he pummelled deep into her opening over and over, grunting and straining with the effort. The sounds alone were sending Claire out of her mind again and with every thrust Jamie delivered, her hips had a solid answer back. She was a rather noisy lover and despite both being so out of practice before last night, Jamie soon had Claire panting and moaning aloud.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, Jamie! Don’t stop! I’m nearly there!”

He quickly moved his hand from just under her knee, and instead used his arm to pin it to his body and grabbed a handful of her arse with his hand, for a better grip. The resulting thrill for Claire was that this new angle allowed his pelvis to grind on her sensitive bud each time he thrust deep into her now. The mixture of her rising pleasure and the pain of the tree bark unyielding behind her was an over-whelming combination and she could feel herself getting closer to her peak. 

As his own arousal heightened, Jamie lifted his head from her shoulder and first looking deep into her eyes, he then leaned it onto her forehead. Breathing the same air, their souls; their bodies; their breath became one, they held one another’s eyeline, hers golden; his black, and rushed towards their climax together.

“…Claire…oh, Claire…”

“Come hard, Jamie, and take me with you!”

Claire let out an anguished cry at the overwhelming orgasm she felt wash over her. Jamie gasped loudly as his also overtook him, feeling every inch of his hard cock being milked by her spasms leading him to spill and spill inside her. Both were thankful for the tree that served to keep them upright as their legs weakened. 

As they both came down gradually from their glorious high, they hugged one another in gratitude; they laughed breathlessly at how quickly things had intensified; they sighed at the joy they both felt and eventually, Claire took Jamie’s face in her hands and looking deeply from eye to eye, she told him,

“You had no reason to trust me when I first arrived Jamie. No reason at all, but I will forever be grateful that you did, and I will _never_ forget how I felt seeing you standing on my doorstep holding out that bloody pot of rabbit stew!”

They laughed shyly again at the shared memory. Caressing his strong cheekbone and then his soft lips, she whispered,

“I think that was the moment that I fell in love with you, Jamie.”

His head lifted as he caught her eye, stunned to know that of _all_ the moments, it was that humble, unassuming act right at the start that had done it. Never would he have guessed; never would he have allowed himself to even consider it…

They tidied their clothes and soon found themselves lost in one another’s arms and eyes again. Feeling safe and therefore able to ask her question, Claire smiled gently at Jamie. Clearing her throat, she coyly said,

“So…um, may I ask, what was the moment you realised you…um…”

Jamie gave her a warm smile, and let his large hand delicately brush a curly tendril behind her right ear. He knew exactly what she was asking; and for that matter, exactly how to show her. Taking her by the hand he started leading her home. He said not a single word, but the smile never left his face.

After about 10 minutes of walking, with Claire still utterly perplexed, they made it back to Jamie’s croft. He sat her quite deliberately onto his bench, checking that she was sat ‘just so’ before he quickly disappeared inside.

Within a few moments, he returned to the doorway and hesitated. Claire could see that he was holding one of his books that she had seen on the shelf the night before. He came to stand before her holding it in both hands, close to his chest, his strong thumbs gripping it. Slowly, Jamie stared at the book and then held it out to Claire. Looking up at him for an explanation, she quickly realised that this _was_ the explanation and so she reached up to take it from him. Claire saw instantly that it was a copy of the love poems of Gaius Valerius Catullus.

She moved the book into her right hand and feeling that there was something within the pages, she made to open it with her left, all the while looking up at Jamie. She still did not understand, but it became clear momentarily.

For within the book, at poem 5, Claire found the sprig of pressed blue forget-me-knots so lovingly preserved all these months. She gasped as she realised what they were, raising her hand to her chest as she felt the lump rise in her throat, trying to process just what a profoundly moving gesture Jamie had made. She looked up at him with such love and affection in her eyes, only to see his hold the same conviction, unblinking and bright with tears. He quietly stated, 

“It’s always been forever for me, Lass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I love how this chapter ended! Thanks so much for your lovely comments - they mean such a lot to me! 
> 
> The song Claire sings in "Lullaby to a Jitterbug" by The Andrews Sisters (Same troup who sing "The Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy" from S113 "The Search") - listen here: https://youtu.be/HvJsnKHGolI 
> 
> We will get to Claire's story and I'm trying to make the current day sections all remain in that first day after they get together but we still have a fair few chapters to go I think before we find out....
> 
> And of course, the Catullus Poem 5 is where the infamous "dā mī bāsia mīlle; give me a thousand kisses..." all OL fans know and love. Here's both the original Latin and a translation:
> 
> Catullus 5  
> vīvāmus mea Lesbia, atque amēmus,  
> rūmōrēsque senum sevēriōrum  
> omnēs ūnius aestimēmus assis!  
> sōlēs occidere et redīre possunt:  
> nōbīs cum semel occidit brevis lūx,  
> nox est perpetua ūna dormienda.  
> dā mī bāsia mīlle, deinde centum,  
> dein mīlle altera, dein secunda centum,  
> deinde ūsque altera mīlle, deinde centum.  
> dein, cum mīlia multa fēcerīmus,  
> conturbābimus illa, ne sciāmus,  
> aut nē quis malus invidēre possit,  
> cum tantum sciat esse bāsiōrum.
> 
> Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love,  
> and let us value all the rumors of  
> more severe old men at only a penny!  
> Suns are able to set and return:  
> when once the short light has set for us  
> one perpetual night must be slept by us.  
> Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,  
> then another thousand, then a second hundred,  
> then immediately a thousand then a hundred.  
> then, when we will have made many thousand kisses,  
> we will throw them into confusion, lest we know,  
> or lest anyone bad be able to envy  
> when he knows there to be so many kisses.


	13. Lady's Smock - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whilst their first day as a couple continues, they reminisce about a difficult episode in their journey that ultimately earned them one another's respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****Trigger warning*****
> 
> These next 2 chapters deal with a really sad event that some readers might find upsetting. Think the loss of Geordie in episode 104 The Gathering.... 
> 
> This shared experience is what brings our couple a step closer to being together so it's important but read with caution...

After the heat and tenderness that they had shared in the morning, Claire and Jamie forced themselves to tend to a few necessary jobs at Jamie’s home. Claire then tried to persuade him to come and eat lunch at her house. In all honesty, he was still getting used to having somewhere else that he was welcome. Claire saw this and sought to help him overcome this long-held caution. 

“Please, Jamie! I have some fresh treacle scones that old Grannie Wemyss gave me yesterday for treating her gout. I’ll share them with you!”

Claire squeezed his strong fingers tenderly between her own as she looked up at him with hooded eyes, a closed-mouth smile breaking out on her face. Jamie looked down at the ground smiling shyly at her flirtatious coaxing. Chancing a look back up at her, he conceded,

“…Aye. Of course, I’ll come.”

Claire hadn’t been back since the previous morning and when they arrived, she marvelled for a moment at how much had happened in that short time; and how much had changed for them both. She walked into her croft, whilst Jamie went to tend to Clarence. Over the last 6 months Jamie had become fondly attached to him. He had secretly been asking Clarence to keep a close eye on Claire whilst he wasn’t there. Madness, he knew, talking Gaelic to a mule! He found that he couldn’t help himself though.

Claire set about preparing their lunch. Laying out a beautiful pastel blue cloth she had found on her travels, she plated up some cold beef, some bread and some sorrel and other green leaves and placed the spread carefully out on the table. She warmed some of the scones and dug out her homemade butter. Smiling at how good it looked, her mouth starting salivating just looking at the spread.

Claire went to pull her chair over to the table when she realised that she had left a basket on it. Lifting it out of the way, she noticed some of her pouches containing her version of period pain relief. It was made from a delicate little plant with small white and violet petals, called Lady’s Smock. A quick, sad smile graced her face for a second and she was stuck in a deep thought that took her far away from the joy of her current day.

Jamie came into the croft sorting something in his sporran, to find Claire standing stock still in the middle of the room, a basket in one hand and one of her little pouches cradled in the other. He saw a short smile on her face momentarily, but it was gone as soon as it came.

Sensing he was there she whispered to him,

“I was just thinking about Willie McCulloch. I, er, saw his mother recently.”

Gently, Jamie replied,

“Aye, I understand she an’ her husband have found it tough these last 4 months. It’s…it’s no easy when ye lose a child.”

“He was so brave, Jamie.” She turned her head slightly in his general direction.

Quietly, they stood as if in collective remembrance of him somehow.

Jamie’s sorrowful eyes mirrored her sad smile. But now, her thoughts were running a mile a minute and he could see it all on her face as she quickly joined the dots. Jamie knew the moment she suddenly finally understood.

_Thank Christ I dinnae have tae tell her this time!_

As if a million little synapses all went off in Claire’s head at once, she suddenly saw with such sharp clarity just how hard it must have been for Jamie back then, the day he had come across wee Willie McCulloch.

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, Jamie! Your son! He was called Willie too…and you lost him as well! I didn’t know…but, then...””

Claire’s eyes widened in full realisation as she suddenly understood so clearly the true depth of the silent bravery and strength that he had shown that horrid day.

_How the hell did he keep it together when it happened?_

_Christ! He held US up!_

_How. The hell. Did he DO that?!”_

*****

****

**_FLASHBACK_ **

Finally, Clarence was on the mend!

Once Mr Fraser had given Claire the advice about softening the hay, Clarence had begun to make a speedier recovery. Although Mr Fraser would still come by each day ostensibly to check on him, whenever Claire tried to thank him and, in truth, try to understand why he had suddenly disappeared when Mr Hunter had arrived, he would change the subject. In fact, every time she tried to speak to him about it, he would find something; anything, to distract them. As long as she stayed away from the subject though, he seemed almost genial at times.

Life soon became too hectic for Claire to give the situation prolonged thought. She was gaining a good reputation as a healer in the area and this kept her busy, which she loved. As was often the case when she had remained anywhere for any length of time, all and everyone would seek her out, sometimes at home; sometimes in the village and she was soon a familiar face to many of the villagers of Broch Murdha. They soon came to see that she could be relied on to mend a wound; pull a tooth; lance a boil and all manner of messy things that went hand in hand with being a healer.

She had noticed though that despite Mr Fraser’s interest in keeping a very close eye on Clarence, whenever a patient arrived seeking out the Sassenach healer, he would make himself scarce. Just like with Mr Hunter, Claire would be in full flow, interacting and chatting with a patient and would turn to include him in the conversation only to find that he had once again disappeared. Feeling a little further disappointment and confusion, she would turn back, smile and continue the discussion, with her companion being none the wiser.

She gradually settled into a daily routine and as the weeks past, Claire soon felt the beginnings of contentment, like newly formed roots tentatively unfurling and reaching out for purchase. It was a pleasant feeling that she had not encountered for a long time.

Her part in the community took another significant leap forward after she had been there for about two months and rather surprisingly, it was all down to Mr Fraser. However, before that their friendship was about to suffer another unexpected challenge. 

*****

The morning had begun in much the same way that any other had in the eight weeks prior; with a list of jobs requiring doing that Claire still had not quite learned how to fit in to a typical day, even after all this time. This particular winter morning, she was in need of both firewood and herbs. She was running short on a particular specimen that was proving to be very popular with the women of the town. Claire took herself off to the wood closest to her house and began foraging. After a lonely hour, she chanced upon Mr Fraser who was running through his usual routine with what looked like military precision. 

He was startled when Mistress Beauchamp called out to him, and his usual frown quickly appeared on his strong Norse face, along with a tension in his jaw. Ignoring his ever-present dour manner, she began chattering away to him with gusto whilst walking towards him, too preoccupied in her search for herbs to pay much attention to his obvious irritation.

“How are you this fine morning, Mr Fraser? Have you been out long? Isn’t it a brisk day? Do you think it’s going to rain soon? I don’t suppose you’ve seen any Lady’s Smock around, have you? It is a sort of clump of violet and white flowers, yes? Do you know which one I mean? I’m sure I’ve seen some here before, but I’ll be damned if I can recall where. It’s a great seller, you see, for my female patients. It helps them with their monthly pains…oh, I’m sorry, I don’t suppose you want to know about such things!”

She hadn’t seemed to pause for breath yet and each time Jamie inhaled ready to answer one of her questions, he was interrupted by another one. After the fourth time, his patience evaporated,

“Christ, woman! Do ye never stop yappin’? Whit are ye askin’ questions fir, if ye dinnae want an answer tae them?! Ten years I’ve lived oot here in peace an’ quiet an’ two bloody months wi’ you here an’ ma head is wringin’ every time I see ye! Does that mooth o’ yers never shut?!”

Claire stopped dead in her tracks at his reprimands. First, she was shocked; then she was sorry; she briefly filled with embarrassment as he continued and finally settled on rage. Storming closer, until she was right under his nose, she looked up at him with a rising white fury.

“Well, Mr Fraser, I was just trying to enjoy my day; you know; make the most of it! Something you might try doing occasionally, you…you miserable old stoat! And as for living in peace and quiet; more like living in bloody purgatory! Walking around so miserable all the time and scarpering off whenever anyone else comes close! That’s no way to live!”

Not liking where this conversation was heading, he made to step around her, but she was in full flow now; unable to stop herself from voicing all her frustrations of the previous weeks, feeling all her efforts to engage with him so carelessly discarded on the floor like an expendable waste. She stayed in his face even when he moved and just kept going,

“No doubt you’re one of those sexist arseholes who thinks that women should be seen but not heard!”

His anger at her words was eclipsed only by his shock at her outrageous language and it rendered him unable to respond, other than inhaling, before she continued,

“Do you know what Mr Fraser? I am sick _bloody_ tired of all you men here thinking that you can just boss us women around and control us!”

He tried to move around her again, holding his tongue and looking at the ground.

_I knew it was only a matter o’ time before she saw whit all the others see!_

_Did I really think I had any right tae expect more?!_

Claire still would not let him leave though and kept her face right in his, her chin raised as she spoke,

“…What’s wrong?! Cat got your tongue? I bet you can’t _stand_ it when a woman has an opinion.”

Jamie’s own fury was beginning to build up and she could see that he was getting ready to pounce. This only served to enrage Claire further and she began to goad him,

“What are you going to do, eh, if I don’t pipe down? _Punish_ me?”

Jamie was horrified at the rancour she spewed and was now _terrified_ at where the situation was heading.

“Are you going to take your belt to me, eh Fraser? That’s how it’s done isn’t it?!”

Claire then became lost in her own world, pacing backwards and forwards in front of Mr Fraser, staring down at the floor, quite oblivious to him; clearly letting out more long held and pent-up thoughts, all the while failing to blink. As if sensing the tension in the air, the wind picked up and sure enough, the sky showed that a storm was fast moving towards them. Oblivious, Claire continued to mumble away,

“…Sodding men! Always have to bloody ruin everything with your macho crap! Just because you’ve got a cock you think you’re somehow superior! Which is completely ironic considering that you are so bloody scared that you won’t talk to anyone nor even go into the village! Bloody annoying man!”

Suddenly, and with a ferocity that came out of nowhere, she stepped up and hollered in his face,

“ALL I BLOODY ASKED YOU WAS HOW YOU WERE!”

She continued her tirade as the loud wind blew her hair wild. She looked like a true ancient bana-bhuidseach. _Witch_.

“BUT NO, YOU JUST HAD TO GO AHEAD AND RUIN MY DAY! DO YOU THINK LIFE HERE IS EASY FOR ME; MOVING FROM PLACE TO PLACE; NEVER SETTLING LONG; ALWAYS ON MY OWN?! WELL, NO IT ISN’T! BUT YOU JUST _HAD_ TO MAKE ME FEEL AS _SODDING_ MISERABLE AS _YOU_ ALWAYS ARE! Every time there’s always someone just like you to spoil everything, you…YOU FUCKING BASTARD!”

Jamie’s fury hit an all-time high towards Claire, as his ability to speak returned, coinciding with his rage peaking.

“YOU FOUL-MOUTHED BITCH! YOU’LL NOT SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY!”

And he reached out to grab her arms firmly with his solid hands. The intensity of his grip was sure to leave bruises.

_Christ! How has it come tae this so quickly?_

He knew really; she had hit so many of his painful scars with her words; each one a direct hit. So much so that Jamie felt every one of them afresh as if newly struck.

“OR ELSE WHAT?!” She held firm; her chin still boldly raised.

“OR ELSE I’LL BEAT YE UNTIL YER EARS WRING!”

_Christ, she isnae even mine tae discipline! What the hell am I sayin’ tae her?_

“YOU’RE A BRUTE AND A FOOL!”

Claire pulled out of his grip and then spoke in a low voice with menace, speaking through her clenched teeth,

“…and if you ever lay a hand on me, Fraser…I will kill you in a heartbeat! _You_ may not have taken the time to notice but let me warn you: I am _not_ the meek and obedient type! Now, I’m off to the village. To talk to people who actually _see_ my value…and don’t _bugger_ off and leave me every chance they get!” 

And with that she turned on her heel and marched off, the firewood and herbs long forgotten. 

Jamie stood there utterly stunned and perplexed at how quickly the situation had deteriorated.

_Whit the hell just happened?!_

*****

Despite the rising winds and imminent arrival of the winter storm, Jamie continued to wander in the woods too distressed and wound up to go home. Making his way to the river, he took a seat by the water’s edge and reflected on what had just happened with Mistress Beauchamp. He was in utter shock at how quickly it had all unravelled. Naturally, he blamed himself entirely.

_How could ye be so cruel tae that poor woman?_

_Did ye forget how hard things are fir her? Do ye no remember seein’ her so upset right here on this spot?!_

_She was just tryin’ tae be nice tae ye, ye eejit!_

_Why do ye always have tae make such a mess o’ everythin’?!_

_Well done fir lettin’ her doon…like everyone else apparently! Yer useless, man! Whit is the point o’ ye?_

_And whit did she mean “never settling long”? Would she soon be leavin’?!_

His head dropped to his chin in shame at how awfully he had treated her; at how she saw him as being just another person that had disappointed her; those words echoed over and over in his head, “ _Every time there’s always someone just like you to spoil everything…”_

He really did not want her to see him as just the same as everyone else. He wanted to feel…special; he specifically wanted _her_ to think of him as special too. 

After Jamie had spent a fair amount of time heavily castigating himself, he began to feel the first few drops of rain fall as the storm arrived and decided it was time to get home to tend to his animals. He had not been walking more than five minutes when he heard something injured, whimpering. Never one to cope well with another’s suffering, Jamie sought the creature out, so that he could help it on its way as quickly as possible if necessary. 

Following the sound, he came upon a small dip in the terrain and to his utter shock, he found a young boy fallen on his back, clutching his hands around something on his stomach. He looked to be about 15 years old; clearly having had that growth spurt where he had got the long arms and legs but had not quite filled out yet. The poor lad was sweating and clearly in great pain. He was also exceptionally pale.

It took Jamie’s brain a few moments to process just quite what he had stumbled onto. His heart dropped into his boots when he realised that the poor lad had somehow fallen back and landed on an unusually sharp branch protruding from the floor. Jamie could see that the sorry wee lad had basically managed to get himself impaled on a two-inch thick branch. He was clutching at the protrusion in pain and yet completely unable to remove himself, almost hovering above the ground as if held by invisible strings.

What then caught Jamie’s eye was the growing pool of blood under his legs. For he also had a large gash near the top of his right thigh, and it seemed to be where the blood was gradually escaping from.

When the young lad saw the giant standing before him, his eyes widened in alarm; he had been warned about the old laird of Broch Murdha and by the look on his face, it was clear to Jamie that the stories about him had not stopped in the last few years; in fact, the fear in this boy’s eyes were evidence of the fact that said stories were now even more embellished. Trying to ignore the look, Jamie removed his stock and quickly knelt and tied it tightly around the lad’s leg to stem the bleeding. After he had done so, he chanced a look at him.

Seeing a pair of haltingly clear blue eyes looking back up at him, transporting him many years back to another set of such eyes, made each of the already shattered pieces of Jamie’s heart ache yet again. It had been many years since he had looked anyone so fully in the eye, but the irony of being faced with such an almost _familiar_ pair of eyes was very quickly eclipsed by the fact that this lad was in a bad way; and Jamie had a feeling of rising dread that things were not going to end well.

“I’m sorry, Sir! I’m sorry! I ken I shouldnae have been in yer woods. I ken it! Aargh!”

The boy winced in pain, clearly tiring from the exertion. Jamie knelt forward again and touched the lad’s shoulder and leg, still trying to find his voice.

_Christ, who gives a damn whose bloody woods ye’re in; look at ye son!_

In as reassuring a voice as Jamie could muster, he comforted the boy,

“Sssh…dinna fash, son! It’s nae bother. Whit matters is that we get ye free an’ get ye home, aye?!”

The lad looked a little uncertain to begin with. This kind and gentle man did not seem to fit with stories he had been told for as long as he could remember. The man then spoke to him in a deep, calming tone,

“Now then mo balach, how about we start wie yer name? I am James Fraser.”

Uncertainty still swimming around his eyes, the boy hesitated to reply. But realising that he really needed Mr Fraser’s help, he soon began,

“My…my name is Willie, Sir. Mr Fraser, Sir! …Willie McCulloch.”

Jamie’s breath caught as he stared at the boy, his gaze almost piercing him to the core. _Why did he have to be called Willie?! Was this some kind of sick joke the Almighty was playing on him?_

Jamie took a deep breath and smiled reassuringly at him.

“Nice tae meet ye, Willie. Och, lad, it looks like ye’ve got yersel’ in a right bit o’ bother. Dinna be scared though; I am here. I am here…an’ I’ll no leave ye.” 

Looking over the scene, Jamie could see that only about two inches of the branch were protruding out. The lad had obviously stumbled back and losing his footing as he approached the dip ( _he must have been walking backwards?_ ) he had fallen back and landed where he lay. Jamie could not see any other choice; he knew what he had to do.

“Now then, Willie. This is goin’ tae hurt like hell, I’ll no lie tae ye, but I’m goin’ tae have tae cut through the branch behind ye. Aye?”

Willie’s eyes were full of panic but when he looked up at Mr Fraser’s steady reassuring gaze, he calmed slightly and nodded. He felt unexpectedly safe with Mr Fraser here. Jamie adjusted his stance and took hold of Willie’s torso with one hand, as his other went around and began cutting the branch. Willie grabbed hold of Mr Fraser’s jacket. It was an awkward angle, but Jamie had to hold the boy lest he collapse further when the branch eventually split. 

“Hold on tae me.”

Willie tried to be brave, he really did, but by the time it was finished he was sweating even more and was exhausted. Curled into Mr Fraser’s chest, his face was wet from tears he did not remember crying as the pain had been so bad. His breath soon began to race, and he could feel himself start to panic. Then he heard the deep timbre of Mr Fraser’s voice trying to calm him.

“Willie, look at me son…Willie! Yer ok, it’s over. Try tae slow yer breath like mine, aye? That’s it, slowly in an’ oot…”

Jamie ran his hand through Willie’s hair and cradled his neck with the large palm of his hand as they breathed in unison. They locked eyes and Willie’s breathing began to calm as he focused completely on the rich blue-jewelled eyes looking down at him. He saw compassion and not a little angst in those eyes.

“Whit the hell happened tae ye, Willie? Whit were ye doing?”

“I was foragin’, Mr Fraser. We’ve sae little tae eat an’ what wie winter comin’ in, we need awe the help we can get! I wis startled by a wild boar an’ as I ran backwards, it just caught my leg and I fell intae the dell and well...here ye find me…”

Jamie was a little confused.

_Why are Willie’s family findin’ things sae tough?_

_Surely, they’ve no long ago sold their harvest?_

_And it’s no like the Laird had been collectin’ rents fir the last 10 years – surely that made a difference?_

“Willie, whit dae ye mean ye need awe the help ye can get? Whit aboot yer family’s harvest?”

Despite the pain he felt, Willie laughed. It was short-lived and then he shook his head at the pain, all the while still being held upright in Mr Fraser’s arms.

“Mr Fraser, wie nae Laird tae ensure we awe get the best price, they fleece us, sir! Offer us a fraction o’ whit our harvest is worth, or so ma Da is ie tellin’ me. Been like it as long as I can remember but he says that it used tae be different; Broch Murdha used tae be a wealthy wee place.”

Fully beginning to realise just how much he had truly let his people down, Jamie let out a short burst of horror. Quietly, and as if somewhere far off in his mind, Jamie said, 

“No, lad, yer Da’s right. Broch Murdha use tae be a thrivin’ place…I had nae idea that things had got sae bad.”

Suddenly, Willie let out a strangled groan he was no longer able to hold in. Galvanised into action, Jamie brought his attention back to the moment; if he wasn’t careful, Willie was going to perish right here before him.

_Mistress Beauchamp! We need Mistress Beauchamp! She’ll ken whit tae do!_

“Willie, son, put yer arms around ma neck. That’s it! Now, I’m goin’ tae lift ye intae ma arms. It’ll hurt but it’s the quickest way we can get tae the village.”

Jamie was just about to lift when Willie spoke with real concern,

“But Sir, ye _never_ go tae the village! What if…”

Jamie cut him off.

“Dinna fash, Willie! I’ll be fine. Anyway, we need tae get ye tae Mistress Beauchamp and she’s gone tae the village…so that’s where we’ll be headin’.”

Still not convinced Willie countered,

“But it’s twa miles, Mr Fraser! How will ye carry me that far? It’s too much! Ye’ll never make it!”

The lad was beginning to panic again, and his eyes filled with tears as the seriousness of his situation began to sink in. Seeing this brave boy crumble before his eyes tore at Jamie’s very heart and without hesitation, he offered reassurance,

“Willie, look at me, Willie. Yer no such a weight fir me, I promise ye. I’ll take ye tae the village; we’ll find Mistress Beauchamp an’ she’ll dae whit she can tae help. She’s a fine healer; best I’ve ever kent!”

It was all Willie could do to nod, tears still swimming in his eyes and it was all Jamie could do not to set his lips on Willie’s forehead.

Jamie adjusted his arm around the back of him and added another under his legs. They both heaved as Jamie lifted him. After a slight adjustment to his grip, Jamie set off at as fast a pace as he could manage, his worry increasing every moment that yet again he’d be too late. Wonder that she was, there may still be some things that even Mistress Beauchamp could not manage. He suspected that miracles were one of them.


	14. Lady's Smock - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We stay in flashback as Claire heads to the village for some distraction and the days events continue to unfold; their long-lasting effects leaving them humbled and reflective.
> 
> Will Jamie find her? How will they deal with the things that they said to one another in the woods that morning?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: character death - think the death of Geordie in Episode 104 "The Gathering"....
> 
> Previously...
> 
> As if a million little synapses all went off in Claire’s head at once, she suddenly saw with such sharp clarity just how hard it must have been for Jamie back then, the day he had come across wee Willie McCulloch.  
> “Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, Jamie! Your son! He was called Willie too…and you lost him as well! I didn’t know…but, then...””  
> Claire’s eyes widened in full realisation as she suddenly understood so clearly the true depth of the silent bravery and strength that he had shown that horrid day.  
> How the hell did he keep it together when it happened?  
> Christ! He held US up!  
> How. The hell. Did he DO that?!” 
> 
> ***** 
> 
> “OR ELSE WHAT?!” She held firm; her chin still boldly raised.  
> “OR ELSE I’LL BEAT YE UNTIL YER EARS WRING!”  
> Christ, she isnae even mine tae discipline! What the hell am I sayin’ tae her?  
> “YOU’RE A BRUTE AND A FOOL!”  
> Claire pulled out of his grip and then spoke in a low voice with menace, speaking through her clenched teeth,  
> “…and if you ever lay a hand on me, Fraser…I will kill you in a heartbeat! You may not have taken the time to notice but let me warn you: I am not the meek and obedient type! Now, I’m off to the village. To talk to people who actually see my value…and don’t bugger off and leave me every chance they get!”  
> And with that she turned on her heel and marched off, the firewood and herbs long forgotten.  
> Jamie stood there utterly stunned and perplexed at how quickly the situation had deteriorated. 
> 
> Whit the hell just happened?!
> 
> *****
> 
> “Willie, look at me, Willie. Yer no such a weight fir me, I promise ye. I’ll take ye tae the village; we’ll find Mistress Beauchamp an’ she’ll dae whit she can tae help. She’s a fine healer; best I’ve ever kent!”  
> It was all Willie could do to nod, tears still swimming in his eyes and it was all Jamie could do not to set his lips on Willie’s forehead.  
> Jamie adjusted his arm around the back of him and added another under his legs. They both heaved as Jamie lifted him. After a slight adjustment to his grip, Jamie set off at as fast a pace as he could manage, his worry increasing every moment that yet again he’d be too late. Wonder that she was, there may still be some things that even Mistress Beauchamp could not manage. He suspected that miracles were one of them....

**MUSIC - Garth Brooks "To make you feel my love"**

**_Flashback continued…_ **

Claire had stopped off briefly at home to pick up her medical bag and had soon trudged into the village. It really was not the weather for it but her anger at what had just happened with Mr Fraser left her no option. She simply could not spend a single moment cooped up at home right now, lest she lose her temper and break something. She was so frustrated at this difficult man; he made everything so much more bloody challenging!

What Claire could not quite understand though was that yet again she felt bereft at what she saw as his rejection of her. It physically pained her; like her body was being seared from the inside out and she struggled to understand how this could be so, when he annoyed every fibre of her being at times. Her feelings towards him were certainly not always positive but she had realised that they were always intense; strong.

_Why on earth did I tell him that there was always someone like him?_

_Nothing could be further from the truth! He is like nothing and no one that I have ever met before!_

Claire sought distraction in the form of work and thus she had headed into town to find it. When she first started visiting Broch Murdha, she had made a habit of setting herself up in the village square, but after a few weeks she had been offered a warm space in the village tavern, The Unicorn and Stag.

Mr Murphy, the landlord of the tavern, was a tall, solid man, with a completely bald head and bushy brown beard. Looking at him, Claire had always thought that he would have made a perfect rugby prop in another time. Despite being somewhat of a giant, Murphy was a kind sort; jovial and friendly as one might expect of any landlord. He had set Claire up in a side room. It had turned into a rather symbiotic arrangement; somehow creating increased footfall for both by working together. She was incredibly thankful given today’s stormy conditions. 

Claire had the space set up with a few chairs outside the room for waiting patients; a sideboard where she laid out her tools and tinctures; and a large table which worked beautifully for more involved treatments.

Currently, she was busy working at pulling a rotten tooth from a young maiden’s mouth when she heard a noise that caught her attention from outside. She had just removed the offending article when she heard a deeply strained voice shout out again,

“Mistress Beauchamp!”

_It cannot be?!_

_He never comes to the village! He told me that himself!_

“…Mistress Beauchamp!”

_Shit! Something bad has happened!_

_He needs me!_

The recognition of who the desperate voice belonged to, the tone of urgency she could hear in his voice and the fact that they were currently residing in a place that he refused to come to saw Claire immediately switch into emergency trauma mode. It had only been needed a few times in recent years but once you have seen the horrors that she had; the ability to instantly shift gear never left you. Claire immediately threw down the pincers, abandoned her current patient and ran out into the village square, frantically searching for the source of the voice.

It took her a few seconds to locate Mr Fraser turning on the spot looking for her in the pouring rain, carrying a young lad not only pale but now frozen and shivering. He spotted her and with a look of utter relief he headed towards her. His sudden entrance to the village after so very long a time did not go entirely unnoticed despite the rain obscuring so much; a few villagers slowly began to follow the unfolding scene. Claire heard Mr Fraser bark out to them,

“Find his mother! Find Mistress McCulloch…now!”

To her astonishment, they nodded reverently and headed off in a rush, clearly taking his instructions and their mission seriously. 

Despite her calm exterior, the shock Claire felt at seeing the large branch piercing both sides of the young boy’s abdomen made her own stomach plummet like a lead weight. As they came closer to where she was waiting, she raised her eyes from the boy’s appalling wound to Mr Fraser’s gaze, his chest heaving from the exertion of rushing to find her and held it steady, she could see that they both knew this was a fruitless task; the conclusion was already written. Soberly, Claire instructed Mr Fraser,

“This way, quick!”

She led him into the tavern and ignoring the others watching them, they headed straight for her surgery. With Claire hurriedly reaching for her discarded shawl to act as a pillow; Mr Fraser carefully lay the wounded boy down. The run to the village and his continued loss of blood had left the lad close to being unconscious but as Mr Fraser placed him carefully on the long table, he stirred and let out a groan.

“Thank Christ I found ye, Mistress! This here is Willie, Willie McCulloch. He’s got a nasty cut on his leg that I’ve tended tae a bit an’… well…ye can see he’s had a slight run-in wie a branch, aye?”

Jamie looked up at Mistress Beauchamp but whilst she nodded to show that she had heard his words, she was so focused on surveying Willie’s wounds that she had no time, nor inkling, at that moment to return his look.

“Willie, son, this is Mistress Beauchamp, remember, the healer that I told ye aboot? She’s goin’ tae take good care o’ ye, Willie. She’s the best healer I’ve ever known! Ye couldnae be in better hands!”

The little part of her brain that was sitting back observing the scene was immensely moved at Mr Fraser’s unexpected words; the rest was too busy to even register that he had spoken.

Mr Fraser stood up straight and Willie became petrified that he was about to leave. Even though he had only just met him, Willie could not bear for him to go. It was as if Mr Fraser were the ballast; if he remained, Willie could face whatever came next. Before Claire had time to do any more than look Willie over, he grabbed hold of Mr Fraser’s jacket in tears and begged him to stay,

“Please sir, please…dinna leave me! I’m…I’m scared, Mr Fraser!”

Mr Fraser covered Willie’s hand with his own and clutched it reassuringly to his chest. Softly, he spoke to Willie,

“Willie, son, I am here. I told ye, I willnae leave ye. I’ll stay here…’til it’s over, son. I’ve sent someone tae find yer Ma too.”

Willie nodded and Jamie could see in his eye that this young lad, having been unfairly robbed, with the slip of a foot and the nudge of a boar, of the chance to grow any older and become a man, understood that he was facing his final moments. In that instant, with the calmness and serenity with which he bore that realisation, he showed that he had indeed become a man after all.

Mr Fraser dragged his eyes reluctantly to Mistress Beauchamp’s; she gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, holding his gaze, her lips pursed. Still clutching Willie’s hand in his right, he looked back at him, reached out his left hand and cupped the boy’s face tenderly. His hand then moved to smooth Willie’s hair back to hold his head. Never leaving Mr Fraser’s gaze, Willie squeezed his hand and nodded slowly, just the once. Mr Fraser smiled softly at him and gradually, moved his hand down to the bloodied tourniquet, his eyes likewise never leaving Willie’s and he gently tugged at the end of the stock he had used to stop Willie’s lifeblood leaving him and pulled it undone.

Claire was in awe of Mr Fraser. She had no idea how well he knew Willie, although she suspected that it was not very much, and yet the tenderness and bravery that he was exuding took her breath away. She had always felt that there was something quite extraordinary inside Mr Fraser, something too difficult to put into words and here it was on show so profoundly.

For in this moment of unjust tragedy he was calming Willie and in truth, he was calming her too. She did not very often lose a patient and seeing this loss hurtling towards them all, without any ability to stop it, would have broken even Claire’s tough nurse armour without him there holding them all up.

Somehow this grumpy, miserable, annoying neighbour of hers was making her feel…well...at least that she had a companion through the horror of this moment and that she was not going to have to face it alone. They would both long remember the brave young boy who showed them what true courage and dignity in the face of death looked like and this heart-breaking moment would connect them forever.

Wanting to help Mr Fraser, as he was helping them, she reached her hand out with the intention of squeezing his shoulder, so that he knew that she was there for him. Moments before her hand reached its destination though, there was a commotion near the door that made her withdraw it sharply and a small, terrified woman crashed into the room, dripping wet.

Seeing her son laid prostrate on the table she dived towards him. Jamie had taken a slight step away when he had turned to see the source of the noise. The woman stepped into the gap and took her boy’s face in her hands, surveying the damage in stunned silence; her face crumbling when she saw the fatal state of his stomach.

Jamie gently let go of Willie’s hand when he realised that this woman must be Mrs McCulloch, the lad’s mother, keen not to intrude. Willie noticed and tried to make his voice work to stop Mr Fraser, but no sound came out. His eyes darted between his mother and his saviour and slowly the panic began to rise in him again. 

Before Jamie could reassure Willie that he was still here and that he would not leave, a crowd of other villagers burst into the room, led by a tall, dark-haired man and Mr Fraser slipped himself back into the shadows. The man that headed the crowd was not someone known to Claire, but his smart well-groomed appearance made him stand out and she could not help but notice him. Very like Mr Fraser, he had a presence about him; an air of authority and quite quickly he began to take the lead in the situation.

“Now then, what’s goin’ on here? Whit’s happened?”

He looked around the room; doing a double take and freezing where he stood, when he saw James Fraser standing in the corner of the room. Jamie had gradually moved away as more people descended into the room – his discomfort at the volume of people now here very evident on his face. Claire had seen him bristle too as someone made to touch his back as they moved past him.

She also noticed the well-dressed man frown at Mr Fraser just before he tore his gaze away and spotted her. His expression changed quite suddenly, as if a dark cloud had cleared and she saw his deep grey eyes widen in what looked like awe. Clearing his throat and finding his manners, he said, 

“Aah, you must be Mistress Beauchamp. I am Tom Christie, and it is a pleasure to make yer acquaintance, Mistress. I’ve heard what a grand job ye’ve been doing as healer since ye arrived. Now, what’s goin’ on here?”

Momentarily distracted and feeling suddenly very self-conscious, Claire shook her head clear and went to reply to him, only for Mistress McCulloch to let out a loud wail calling Willie’s name over and over and Willie beginning to thrash about in fear. Claire saw Mr Fraser was so very obviously torn between wanting to be there for Willie, as per his promise and the crippling anxiety that he felt with so many others around.

Their eyes locked as everyone else looked to Willie and his mother, and taking in the scene around her and understanding, Mistress Beauchamp looked back at him and gave him a glassy-eyed nod telling him without words that she would see to the lad for him; he could go. She saw Mr Fraser’s eyes soften as he took a deep breath to steady himself and gave her a slow nod back. She then set about reassuring the distressed boy. She grabbed his hand, held it to his chest and in her most soothing manner, she called to him,

“Willie, look at me, Willie. It’s ok. It’s ok – look, your Ma is here and so is Mr Fraser. Everything will be ok, sweetheart. Everything will be ok.”

Willie turned and looked at her, nodding back at her, mimicking her actions. Seeing that her words were beginning to take effect, Claire gave him a heartfelt smile and continued,

“Tell me about your home, Willie….”

Jamie had planned on leaving, so scared that his presence would be noticed and descend as it always did into unkind words and deeds. God knows he did not want that for Willie or his mother but watching Mistress Beauchamp in full healing mode was such a beautiful and poignant sight to behold that he found himself transfixed. Here was a wretched situation that should never have happened and where was she to be found? Looking away; her delicate sensibilities rocked? Refusing to watch such a vulgar scene? No, she was at the helm of it all, doing all in her power to ease a stranger’s tragic passing with such poise and solemnity. 

Whilst Jamie’s purpose in pressing himself against the wall was to hide himself within the scene, what was suddenly quite evident and what he could no longer hide from _himself_ was the fact that she was quite simply _the_ most incredible woman he had ever known. It was a reality that had been slowly creeping up on him, but in that moment, he could no longer deny that his heart belonged to Mistress Beauchamp forever. She would never be his; he knew that; he simply was not worthy of her, particularly after his appalling behaviour earlier, but nonetheless he was completely and unequivocally hers eternally anyway. With her blinding aura, it had only taken two short months for her warmth to fully slip through his defences.

Unfortunately, he could see the same awe at her majesty appearing on Christie’s face and he did not like that one little bit! 

*****

Several hours later, the storm was still going strong. At moments, it almost seemed to be screaming out at the futility of the death of a fine son of Broch Murdha. Claire was exhausted as she trudged back to her croft, her thick, woollen shawl covering her head protecting her against the heavy rain. She found that these old fabrics were surprisingly waterproof and warm, all things considered.

Mr Christie had tried to arrange for Claire to be accommodated in the village overnight whilst the storm still roared on, spouting thanks aplenty at her caring service to Willie McCulloch and his family, but she politely declined. She knew that in moments like these she served herself and everyone around her better if she found some solitude, lest the desolation at her inability to change the outcome overwhelm her. She also wished to get out of the blood-stained clothes that she had on; a painful reminder of the young man she could do nothing to help. Her thoughts inevitably returning to how the afternoon had ended…

_Mr Fraser had stayed true to his vow to Willie and had remained with him in the room until he took his last breath, even if he was not able to stand with him. Claire had taken Willie to a peaceful place with her questions and in his final moments, it ended in as gentle a way as could be expected, given the circumstance. When Claire checked for Willie’s pulse and failed to find it, she met Mistress McCulloch’s eye and shook her head. Willie’s mother began to slowly shake,_

_“No. No. No. No. No. No…. Not my boy! My boy!........MY BOY!!”_

_Her screams had fallen into sobs as she collapsed against Mr Christie who held her close by the shoulders and attempted to comfort her with prayer over her boy’s lifeless body. Meanwhile, comforted to find him still there, Claire had held Mr Fraser’s eye from across the room again, oblivious to the crowd of mourners. He slowly dropped his gaze as if in deference and raised one hand and then the other up to his chest, right over his heart to express his silent gratitude to her. Her bottom lip had quivered just the once as she watched him. She swallowed and witnessed him wilt slightly before her eyes. He had taken one last look at Willie being cradled and rocked by his mother and cast his eyes down again as he swept out of the room. The pain that Claire witnessed in his gaze made her raw heart sore and it took all her strength not to run after him._

_As she turned back to see the tragic scene, the sight of Mr Fraser’s discarded bloodied stock falling slowly to the ground unnoticed as Mistress McCulloch rocked her son’s lifeless body, burned itself onto her soul and would become the abiding memory of the terrible day. It would haunt Claire’s thoughts for a long, long time..._

Claire came now to a narrowing in the road, where the woods on both sides came close to meeting. There in the howling rain, leaning against a tree, seeking shelter that was never to be found in a storm like this, she noticed a cold and wet Mr Fraser studying her as she drew nearer. He had clearly been waiting for her. She paused in her journey home watching him back where he stood.

As she stopped, he stepped away from his refuge, unsure of how he would remain upright with his support now suddenly gone. With his part in Willie’s end echoed in the blood on his own clothing too, he slowly walked until he was stood a little in front of her. He stopped and they locked eyes silently and without expression.

Mistress Beauchamp held his eye with her chin raised in what could easily be mistaken for a look of defiance, much like she had worn during their argument in the morning. It almost looked as if she was willing him to challenge her about her inability to save Willie. But Jamie was not fooled; he could see that she was simply trying to stop herself from falling apart, just as he was. Casting aside the unrealistic wish to hold and comfort her he set his thoughts to focus.

“You’ve seen men die before…and by violence.”

It was made as a statement of fact, not a question.

Without moving a muscle, Claire replied,

“Yes. Many of them.”

Her confidence did falter then, as a number of similar memories found her and looking off into the woods, she spied a fallen log. Walking over to it, Claire sat down heavily, her shawl slipping off her head. She could not bring herself to care about it, distracted as she was. The log was a little sheltered, but the wind and rain still found her there.

Jamie followed and took a seat next to her. They sat in silence, both privately comforted by the fact that in at least a small way, they were not facing the day’s tragedy alone this time. In Jamie’s mind, the new realisation that he was falling for her, hard, kept returning to him.

Mistress Beauchamp silently and unwittingly challenged him by the noble and humble way she lived her life. She utterly captivated him. She was like a wild deep glen, ever-changing in its magnificence with the moving clouds and shifting light overhead making something new and equally as wonderful appear. He found himself in complete awe of her and felt so inadequate. After some time, both staring blindly ahead, clearly replaying Willie’s story over, Jamie told her in a low voice,

“I wish I could have done more fir the lad.”

His words hung in the air between them; barely heard through the noise of the storm. They were the voicing of both of their true inner thoughts; he was the only one strong enough to admit them though. Claire recognised in him a bravery that she felt she had never seen in him before. That she had rarely ever seen in fact. She took a moment to steady her voice, waiting until she could be sure it would not crack,

“No one could have carried him that far…except you…and because of that, you made sure that he died with his people around him, instead of on his own in some godforsaken wood!”

Claire’s fury at how close that had been to happening over-spilled momentarily.

“You gave him that at least….and you kept your promise; you did not leave him. You made his passing easier, Mr Fraser; you brought him back from a fearful place in his mind; you calmed him; you brought him back to his mother. Thank God you found him!” 

She had no idea the impact of her words on his soul. They were like a warm healing balm to him; they made him feel just a little bit better. It eased him somewhat to think that Willie McCulloch had not died alone and seeing the lad reunited with his mother for his final moments was something that had humbled him too. His mind then turned back to Mistress Beauchamp and the comfort that sharing this horrific experience had given him. He knew he could never have her, let alone deserve her, but something about this incredible woman led him to trust her and he found words leaking out from his heart,

“Mistress, whit ye did fir him…. I’ve never seen anything like it…. I…”

He caught himself.

_It willnae do tellin’ her how ye love her! Quit it now! How can ye ever consider yersel’ worthy o’ her?!_

Instead, he softly told her,

“…You very much impressed me today, Mistress Beauchamp. I’ve never seen the like.”

His words touched the very centre of her soul, providing a warmth inside that she so desperately needed. She felt utter relief that she had not let him down, but this led her mind back to this morning and the ugly words they had shared. Still sat facing ahead, unable to look at one another, Claire whispered back to him,

“About earlier, in the woods this morning, I...”

She swallowed the tears back,

“…Forgive me." 

_Christ! She’s askin’ fir MY forgiveness?!_

Jamie took a deep breath to compose himself. It took him a few moments but when he felt able to respond he reassured her, 

"Forgiven...will ye forgive me too? I wis sore an' I said more than I meant."

Claire closed her eyes in her own attempt to compose herself, she smiled out and whispered,

“Forgiven.”

Both sat a while longer in quiet contemplation. Jamie would sit here all afternoon and into the night to keep her company if needs be regardless of the rain. Suddenly having an idea, he reached down for his whisky flask, popped the cork out and held it out to her without looking. She took it from him, her little finger gently grazing his thumb as she grasped the flask. It was a moment neither of them would forget, fleeting as it was. After taking a small fiery sip, keen not to waste too much of his rare nectar, recognising it for the generous thought that it was, Claire handed the flask back. After a few more moments as the whisky warmed her belly, she stood and wrapped her shawl up around her head again and left without a word, heading back to her croft. 

Something changed in that moment between them, permanently; they had a newfound respect for one another that would never diminish. They had shared a tragic chapter and it would connect them forever. They would never again share as harsh a word as spoken during their fight in the woods that morning.

As Claire arrived at her croft and walked up to her door, she noticed something sitting on her bench underneath the window. As she got closer, she could see that it was a brown leather pouch, held in place by a large stone. Removing the stone, she picked up the bag and peeked inside, unable to contain herself despite the rain, wondering what on earth it was. Inside, there was a rough piece of burlap. Claire pulled it out of the bag, feeling something soft within it. When she unwrapped it, she smiled, looking round behind her to the woods. She folded the burlap over again and went into her home, clutching it blissfully to her chest.

Someone had found and picked her several large handfuls of Cardamine Pratensis, otherwise known as Lady’s Smock. 

Out of sight, a little deeper in the woods than could be seen, Jamie watched from a far and smiled to himself, the sight warming him more than any whisky could, as he headed quietly home to properly toast Willie McCulloch and perhaps think on another Willie too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're taking tentative steps towards one another here... 
> 
> Beginning to admit their feeling to themselves but not yet quite able to share them with one another yet...  
> I hope I wrote it in a way that worked for you.
> 
> But Damn that Tom Christie....Jamie saw him looking at Mistress Beauchamp and he didn't like the look in his eye one bit, Did he?!!
> 
> Do listen to the Garth Brooks version of "To make you feel my love". I think that the words really convey where Jamie's head is at by the end of this chapter. Apologies if the Garth Brooks version doesn't quite float your boat or conveys different ideas for you - I'm not overly familiar with him so I come to him with very little preconceived notions but I recognise that it may be different for others. 
> 
> Now, I know some of you are really keen to get to Claire's back story. I reckon we've got between 3-5 chapters to go before we get there... First we need to get ourselves up to how Jamie ended up in a brawl with his shirt being ripped off, that started this whole darn story off in the first place...
> 
> Hope you are all having a restful holidays. It's certainly not like any we have experience before. We are currently in Tier 4 of a national lockdown so we saw no family. Having the five of us at home though makes for it to still be quite entertaining so we're trying to focus on the luxury of not having to travel lots and valuing the time to recharge and rest before school and work start in the new year again. 
> 
> Take care and thank you for reading xx 
> 
> I really appreciate you encouragement and comments too. Thanks so much for taking the time xx


	15. Tom Christie - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire receives unexpected attention from another direction...
> 
> Is it getting time for our heroes to start to show their hand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****  
> Sorry for the wait! This was meant to be 1 chapter but before I knew it, it had grown to about 12000 words and so I've split it into 2. This is part 1.
> 
> *****
> 
> The song that Jamie sings is called "Bonnie Glenshee" - here is a link to a lovely wee version of it:
> 
> https://youtu.be/WZCPETkYd34 
> 
> *****
> 
> Previously...
> 
> Before Jamie could reassure Willie that he was still here and that he would not leave, a crowd of other villagers burst into the room, led by a tall, dark-haired man and Mr Fraser slipped himself back into the shadows. The man that headed the crowd was not someone known to Claire, but his smart well-groomed appearance made him stand out and she could not help but notice him. Very like Mr Fraser, he had a presence about him; an air of authority and quite quickly he began to take the lead in the situation.  
> “Now then, what’s goin’ on here? Whit’s happened?”  
> He looked around the room; doing a double take and freezing where he stood, when he saw James Fraser standing in the corner of the room. Jamie had gradually moved away as more people descended into the room – his discomfort at the volume of people now here very evident on his face. Claire had seen him bristle too as someone made to touch his back as they moved past him.  
> She also noticed the well-dressed man frown at Mr Fraser just before he tore his gaze away and spotted her. His expression changed quite suddenly, as if a dark cloud had cleared and she saw his deep grey eyes widen in what looked like awe. Clearing his throat and finding his manners, he said,  
> “Aah, you must be Mistress Beauchamp. I am Tom Christie, and it is a pleasure to make yer acquaintance, Mistress. I’ve heard what a grand job ye’ve been doing as healer since ye arrived. Now, what’s goin’ on here?”

**_Present Day_ **

After they enjoyed a pleasant lunch together, Jamie headed back out to check on Clarence again. The equine flu was a distant memory and these last few months had been more about Jamie enjoying the mule’s company; they were kindred spirits and Jamie always enjoyed looking after him.

Claire set about tidying away the lunch debris and after wiping the table down, she decided that she would quickly get changed out of the previous day’s outfit. As much as Jamie’s impromptu rain shower the night before had removed most of the muck, she could see that her clothes would require a proper wash soon and so she quickly undid the ties of her jacket and skirt and was down to her shift before she knew it.

She sought out a fresh one and had just pulled it down around her hips when Jamie walked in. She looked up at him in the doorway, eyeing her with interest, and had the strongest sense of déjà vu. It took her a moment before she remember why the sight of Jamie in just his shirt and trousers entering her croft stirred her, but when it finally came to her she laughed at the memory and visibly blushed.

Keen not to have to explain herself (after all, how exactly _did_ you explain to your new partner that you had already experienced a powerful orgasm with him _months_ before he had lain with her and were standing in the very room where it had happened), she occupied herself with something mundane and put a pot on to brew some more tea.

As she set out the items she needed on to the table, Jamie, still intrigued by her sudden flush when he had walked in the door, came and stood behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin onto her shoulder, keen to watch her serious ministrations. After a minute, he pulled himself back and brought his hands down over her glorious hips and squeezed them as he eyed up her arse through her shift.

He suddenly had a delicious memory return to him of his first erotic dream about Claire. He snorted out loud at the memory, remembering how aroused it had made him; Christ, he didn’t think he had ever come that hard before and she hadn’t even been in the room. He did not want any more secrets and so before he could talk himself out of it, he told her, 

“Ye ken, lass, I have had some _very_ vivid dreams of ye in these last couple of months and always ye seemed to be clad in only yer wee shift here, when ye came tae me.”

He pulled her arse back into him, needing to be assured that she was really here and it wasn’t just another dream. She let out a little gasp and lent her head back until it was resting on his chest and she rubbed her temple over his jaw. Turning herself sudden into his arms she reached up and ran her hands into his wonderful curls asking him,

“Really? What…er,…did we _do_ in these dreams of yours?” She smiled up into his sparkling eyes.

“I think ye can guess but I’ll tell ye what, lass, the _first_ time I dreamt about ye…”

He bent down to say the next words close to her ear to be sure she heard it all,

“I came so hard, just _thinking_ about ye touchin’ me wie yer wee hands an’ climbing on top tae ravish me some more!”

She laughed at his teasing but she couldn’t get enough of his bold confessions; she really liked this new Jamie. Rubbing her fingers over the small indent she loved so much by his throat, she blushed again as her thoughts returned to her own earlier realisation. Deciding to return the bold gesture to see what reaction she could elicit from him, she confessed,

“Actually, seeing you walk in just now reminded me of a rather unforgettable night we spent together here as well. Even if you weren’t really here with me either.”

He let out a deep, rich sound of approval and she took the noise for what it was; a request for her to continue her intriguing story. She rubbed her hands up and down his chest as she spoke and then lifted her arms up and around his neck, fondling his neck and hair.

“In fact, we were standing just about here when you…”

She pulled his neck towards her so she could whisper the rest into his ear. 

_Christ! Ye wee minx! Ye ken exactly whit yer words are doin’ tae me!_

Sweeping her eyes round to the bed, she continued, her voice becoming hoarse,

“and over there, you…”

Her lips were back at his ear more whispered secrets that gave him wings.

Neither could believe the private thoughts that each had imagined all those months ago, nor that they would ever have the chance to make them a reality.

Claire smiled and pulled herself reluctantly away and went over to the bed where she had spread out her clean outfit. As she lifted the outer skirt to remove any creases, she heard something fall out of its folds and on to the ground. Jamie walked over to help and picked up the small blue bag, looking at it. She hesitantly reached out for it, unsure of how Jamie might react when he realised what it was.

Looking up from it, she shyly shrugged her shoulders and said two words,

“Tom Christie.”

***** 

**_Flashback_ **

_Jamie was lying in his bed, clad only in his shirt, thinking of Mistress Beauchamp, as he found he repeatedly did now in these quiet moments alone at home; ever since Willie’s death and how impressive she had been. Suddenly, the door to his croft opened and to his shock, she stood there covered in a long brown cloak, the shade of a deer’s pelt, her beautiful hair unbound and cascading over her shoulders. Undoing the clasp at the top of the cloak, she removed it to reveal that she had come dressed only in her shift and in that moment, Jamie felt his chest constrict. She slowly looked around at him, her hair haloed by the firelight and in a clear voice that stirred his wame, she instructed him,_

_“Take of your shirt. I want to look at you.”_

_Could this be really happening?_

_Slowly, Jamie pulled back his quilt, brought his feet to the ground and went and stood in front of her. He could see in her dark eyes the look of a she wolf ready to devour its prey._

_After slowly releasing the buttons at the cuffs, he reached back and pulled the shirt slowly off his back, before bunching it up and confidently throwing it to the ground. She allowed her gaze to drop lower and swallowing, she wet her lips._

_Jamie stood completely still as she walked the few steps towards him and reached her hand out to caress his chest, strong and solid as it was. She slowly walked around him her fingers moving across his torso and arm as she circled him. He found himself holding his breath in the desperate need to not miss a single moment of the wonderful experience._

_She found his ruined back. Despite having not seen it before, she took it all in her stride and simply said,_

_“Hmm…I understand now.”_

_Jamie had no time to appreciate the depth of her words before she was back in front of him, the light from the hearth showing her cotton shift for the thin veil that it truly was. His arousal at seeing her own treasures tease him was very evident to both of them._

_Before he even had to ask, she looked down at the drawstring on her shift and gently pulled the ends, lifting her hooded eyes back to meet his enraptured stare. The material fell to the ground with majesty; like the unveiling of a prized treasure and the sight of her naked body made Jamie’s cock twitch and harden further at the sight. It was the most wonderful experience._

_Happy to simply drink her body in for a time, Jamie remained still. Mistress Beauchamp took a bold step forward though, never leaving their locked stare and as she placed one hand around his neck to pull him into a kiss, the other hand found his hard length and took hold of it decisively._

_Jamie let out a long moan into her mouth as she stroked him several times, before her thumb circled the head, finding it moist and warm. He brought his arms around her and deepened the kiss soaking in the taste, smell and feel of her so intimately presented._

_He had to know what she felt like ‘there’ too and so he brought one hand down over her wonderful arse and gave it a hard squeeze. He knew she enjoyed it by the way that she grunted and kissed him deeper. The same hand then swept around her smooth hip and slowly he swiped a finger through the hair on her quim reaching into her folds and found her wet and ready._

_“Christ! I want ye, lass, I want ye so much, I can scarcely breath….Will ye have me?”_

_She whimpered into his mouth with the combination of his sensual words and his fingers rapidly lost inside her._

_“Yes. Yes, I’ll have you.”_

_And with that she gently pushed him back to his cot and told him to lie down. As if in some kind of erotic trance, he obeyed her every command, as he knew he always would. He felt himself smiling at the sight of her following him and it felt good to have a reason to do so again._

_She brought one knee onto the cot next to him and swung the other over his body, her full breasts gently swaying as she did so. Jamie did not know where to look first; at the round, full orbs in front of him or the delicious honeypot hovering above him. Before he had any time to decided, she reached one hand to steady herself on his stomach and used the other to spread herself open and slowly sank down until she took him all inside._

_She let out a happy gasp and flung her head back as he grabbed hold of her hips with a load groan. Gradually increasing her movement, she began to gyrate her hips over him, taking all of him in and out, in and out. Jamie wanted more, his appetite far from slaked and so he brought his hips up to plunge even deeper into her with each thrust, panting every time. She gasped and cried out as she rode him as he plunged new depths within her._

_Suddenly, he sat up and brought his hands up behind her to clamp down the top of her shoulders and drove himself in more and more; again and again, dedicated to his task._

_“Oh Jamie, Oh Jesus! Right there..aah…yes…yes…yes!”_

_Christ! To hear her use his given name; it had been so very long since anyone had called him Jamie and it meant the world to him, spurring him on. Soon he could feel them both beginning to reach their end. It had been so long…._

A load crack from the fire brought Jamie back to the surface with a shock. He was sweating and extremely out of breath as the dream slowly faded and he found himself alone in his croft.

“No! No!” He called out in anguish, his chest still heaving.

He took hold of himself, he had been so close; it had been so long since…

Squeezing his eyes shut again, he tried to replay the beautiful images of Mistress Beauchamp that he had just had, his desire for her was _just_ there, right in front of him. He slid his hand up and down himself, slick and solid, faster and faster; chasing the dream, the feelings. He could not help himself but gasp and gasp and gasp until he spilt his seed in ribbons across his body and cot, in relieved completion.

As his heartbeat gradually returned to normal, he managed to get himself cleaned up. Part of him felt embarrassed and guilty at thinking of her is such a carnal way but he also knew that this was the closest he was ever likely to get to being intimate with her and so he defiantly held on to these dreams as his one guilty pleasure. This time was just for him.

*****

At Mistress Beauchamp’s croft she and Mr Fraser settled quickly into a unspoken routine as Christmas fast approached. He continued to visit as there were always jobs needing doing. He was happy to help with these and Mistress Beauchamp found continued comfort in him intuitively making himself useful. He still made himself scarce whenever a patient came to visit but she no longer took it quite so personally.

Within these few days after the tragic loss of Willie McCulloch and a little before Christmas, Claire had a visit from a certain townsman who seemed keen to make her acquaintance. She was about to begin paring a particularly pungent and messy root and had brought her preparations outside. Setting all that she needed on a table she had placed there, Claire was deep in thought and did not hear the visitor arrive.

“Good day tae ye, Mistress Beauchamp.”

She jumped in shock and knocked over the mortar, the pestle falling onto the ground. She bent down to quickly retrieve it from the muddy grass, wiping it clean as she rose.

“My apologies Mistress, I did not mean tae scare ye!”

Claire looked over and saw a rather red-faced Mr Christie carrying a basket. Wringing its handle, he struggled to meet her gaze.

“Oh, …er, please, pay it no mind, Mr Christie. You just caught me a little lost in my thoughts was all. No harm; no foul.”

With a friendly smile she looked up at him, but she found his sudden silver-eyed stare a little too intense and looked away again. Something about it made her fluster, much like she had the first time she met him. 

“Aye, well, I wanted tae come and express our gratitude at all ye did fir the McCulloch lad.”

“Willie.” It was important to Claire that his name be spoken.

“Aye…Willie. It was a shock tae his parents, for sure, but I ken they’re grateful fir all ye did in the difficult situation.”

Claire felt her gaze drop to the floor again at mention of her part in things. She still felt the impotency of not being able to save him strong in her gut, making it turn over on itself at the reminder. Quietly she admitted,

“I did nothing really, Mr Christie.”

Mr Christie’s jaw tensed and he let out one short breath through his nose,

“Aye, well, we wanted tae show ye our gratitude anyway, Mistress. Here…”

And he held out the basket to her. If she didn’t know better, she’d say that he seemed a little uncomfortable. She took a step forward and drew the basket from him. As she removed the small cover, she saw whisky, cheese, plum pudding, some still-warm bannocks and even a beautiful lace handkerchief.

Claire found herself suddenly a little overwhelmed. The generosity that the kind people of Broch Murdha had bestowed on her moved her deeply. At a loss, she grappled to find a response,

“Oh… my goodness…Mr Christie, this is….well…I really don’t know what to say. Thank you. Thank you all. What a thoughtful gesture.”

As she looked back at him, he seemed extremely awkward and he gruffly replied to her,

“Aye, well. Ye’re welcome, Mistress. We look after our own here in Broch Murdha. I ken ye’ve only been here a short while but ye’ve made a big impression on us all.”

He rushed the words out sternly and then seemed to find himself short on more to say. His gaze returning repeatedly to her head for some reason. She looked at him properly for the first time before replying. He was a tall, dark-haired man with a well groomed beard. His clothes were just as smart and precise as the last time she had seen him, although a little worn on closer inspection. If he only smiled, he’d be a fine man to look at.

“Thank you, Mr Christie. I find the people of Broch Murdha to be very welcoming to me. Even if I am a Sassenach!”

She laughed shyly.

“I am extremely grateful.”

He nodded curtly, just the once. They both stood in silence, neither knowing quite what else to say. Claire caught herself and realised that perhaps he was waiting for an invite to stay. She offered him a cup of tea before she thought it through. He seemed rather taken aback by her offer but after a few speechless seconds he found his voice, 

“Oh, aye, that would be…yes, thank ye.”

She nodded and moved to step in to the house, planning to set about making them both a cup, then realised that she still had the pestle in her hand. She changed direction back to the table and set it down, only then making her way into the house. She tripped slightly on the doorstep and a little yelp escaped her mouth as she tried not to drop the basket.

When she had made it into the house, she rolled her eyes at her awkward and clumsy behaviour. There seemed to be something about him that made her rather flustered and self-conscious. It was similar to the way that she found herself acting in front of Mr Fraser, she realised.

In fact, now that she thought about it, there were a number of similarities between the two men. Despite having very different colouring, they were both tall; both rather handsome, if a little gruff; both had very striking eyes which held a look of sadness about them and yet seemed to draw her in. The air with which they held themselves was similar too; they both exuded a natural authority around their fellow man, from the little that Claire had seen. They were rather dour and were not inclined to smile; both gave her the sense of wanting to be elsewhere when engaged in conversation with her, whilst at the same time not seeming to want to leave her. Clearly, they were both rather complicated men. 

Realising that she was daydreaming, Claire hurriedly finished making the tea, took herself back out to her guest and found him standing exactly where she had left him. She held out a cup to him, which he took hesitantly.

“Forgive me for taking so long, Mr Christie. Here, do take a seat.” She gestured to her bench.

“Oh, Aye. Thank ye, Mistress…but I’ll stand if ye dinnae mind.”

“Oh, certainly.”

They both took sips of their hot tea, trying to pass the awkward time. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him go to speak a number times but stopping himself. Suddenly, as they neared the end of their drinks, the conversation having been modest and short, the urge overtook him and he turned to face Mistress Beauchamp and blurted out.

“Why do ye no wear a cap?”

Claire was rather taken aback at the unexpected question and it clearly showed on her face.

“I beg your pardon?”

Mr Christie looked mortified…but determined. He repeated the question, a little slower this time.

“Why do ye no wear a cap? Yer hair, it’s…”

He gestured towards it, struggling to find the words for it. Claire couldn’t help but laugh as her free hand went to her head and grabbed a handful of curls momentarily.

“Yes, it is rather isn’t it?” 

She was very used to people commenting on her unruly curls but she’d be damned if she was going to walk about in one of those horribly stifling things on her head all the time. God gave her these wayward curls; she wasn’t about to hide them away – that simply wasn’t her style. Quietly, but confidently she explained,

“I have no desire to wear one of those oppressive little caps. I will not apologise for what I am, Mr Christie. I will not hide myself away to satisfy other people’s delicate sensibilities. That is not my way. Does my hair offend you?”

Mr Christie could not stop looking at her curls now and made no attempt to hide it. She saw something in his eyes…

_Pain?_

_Fear?_

He slowly shook his head and quietly replied,

“No, Mistress. Your hair does not offend me. It is rather that it…well, it reminds me o’ someone I once knew.”

Surprised at the change in his demeanor, she found herself asking rather directly,

“I see…and who would that have been? Who was she to you?”

He started at her directness, not quite knowing how to respond. Slowly, he looked at the ground and then lifted and turned his gaze far away into the distance, seeing something in his mind’s eye that she could not fathom.

“She wis my wife.” He seemed to be holding his breath, a stern look still on his face.

Whatever Claire had been expecting him to say, it was not that!

“Your wife?”

He remained deep in thought and she was not sure that he had heard her. He was clearly rooted elsewhere in his mind but after a short while, he did answer her and once he started, he shared it all,

“Aye. Mona. Her name wis Mona…She died, close on 12 year ago now. Her and her daughter, Malva. It’s just me and my boy, Alan, now.”

Claire was shocked at his revelation.

“That must have been awful for you. You must miss them dreadfully. How did you lose them? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

Despite having been the one to introduce the topic, Mr Christie still looked extremely uncomfortable at discussing it. He seemed unable to stop though,

“They both died in a fire. The girl wis about five year old at the time. I wis away fir the night and well, only my lad Alan made it oot alive.”

“Oh my goodness, Mr Christie, that’s… I’m so sorry…I think that one of the harshest lessons that life shows us sometimes is that bad things can happen to good people.”

She found herself compelled to open up for some reason and had been about to share her own story of sudden loss regarding her parents, when he spoke words that chilled her heart and stopped her in her tracks. Still so lost in his thoughts, he had snorted and slowly shook his head back and forth,

“No in this case, Mistress. _Good_ wis no a word often used to describe Mona. It was a decision that I lived tae regret; marrying her. She wis a wicked woman and burning in flames wis a just consequence fir her. She wis…a bana-bhuidseach.”

“A what? What is a ban…”

“Witch.”

Claire was horrified at his admission; at the spite with which he spoke. She could have sworn that the wind picked up just as he had said that last word and it left her feeling distinctly uneasy and she quickly looked over her shoulder.

_Don’t be daft! There’s no such thing as witches! Why are you acting so scared?!_

Stumbling around in her head for a response, she finally landed on,

“But your daughter, still; to lose an innocent child…”

“No daughter of mine…” He seemed lost in unsettling memories again, again shaking his head. Claire’s heart stopped at the low tone he spoke the shocking words in.

“Mona seduced my brother. Just like me, he wis drawn in by her allure. Malva wis the product of their betrayal. We never spoke of it but I kent I wis right. She wis just like her mother. Even at that young age, ye could tell she wis going to be exactly the same; could see it in her eye, the way she looked at ye, like she had a scheming trap all laid out before ye and wis just waiting fir ye tae take a wrong step an’ fall intae it. Better fir her tae burn then, than to still be here causing trouble and…trauma wherever she went. At least folk were spared that.”

Claire was speechless. Mr Christie snapped out of his daze, just as suddenly as he had fallen into it. He noted the cooling cup in his hand and drew a long draught from it. He then walked over to the table laid out for Claire’s medicinal work and gently laid the cup down on it.

“Aye, well, yer curls reminded me of her is all. They’re a sight tae behold, Mistress, as hers were when I first saw her. I can see that yer no the same though. Ye’re a kind woman.”

Suddenly processing all that he had said to her, he looked up in surprise and finished with,

“Forgive me for all that I said. I never meant…I’ll take my leave, Mistress. Thank ye fir all that ye did fir Wee Willie and thank ye fir the tea. Good day to ye.”

He left with a curt nod made his way back down the track to the road. Claire remained stunned, calling after him “ Good day!” long after he was out of earshot.

_Bloody hell!_

_Fire and witches?!_

_I’m still not wearing a bloody cap!_

*****

The meeting with Mr Christie unsettled Claire. Although it seemed on first thought that it was all the talk of witches and adultery, there was something else that made her feel uneasy. There was a connection between them for sure, but in all honesty, it unnerved her. It felt…barely restrained; volatile, somehow.

Her mind therefore drifted to Mr Fraser. _There_ was another man that she felt connected to, but it was an utterly different experience. She wasn’t yet clear on _how_ exactly it was different, but it was. Without trying to understand further, she decided she needed to visit Mr Fraser at his croft and after shutting up at home, she wandered off to find him.

*****

The day was beautifully crisp and bright and so Jamie had decided to complete his work outside. He was making a very special box. He had sourced the wood himself from the trees around his home and had created a sturdy but pretty leather strap to go atop it. He had spent the last few afternoons preparing all the pieces that he needed for it. He loved working with his hands; creating something purposeful from the natural resources around him gave him a rare sense of pride and fulfillment.

*****

Claire enjoyed the walk to Mr Fraser’s croft. Feeling the winter sun warm her face helped the cold dread of the morning’s conversation with Mr Christie slowly evaporate, with each step she took further away from her own croft. 

_And closer to Mr Fraser’s!_

_…Don’t be daft!_

_Then what are you going to see him for, eh?_

Trying to shake off her meddlesome mind, she concentrated on her steps and as she reached the back of his croft, she heard, well, it almost sounded like singing, except there wasn’t a lot of tune; just a slow deep rhythm with words.

_Oh, do you see yon shepherds,_

_As they gang alang,_

_Wi' their plaidies pu'd aboot them,_

_And their sheep they lead on?_

She held herself back at the side of his home, out of sight, simply listening to the easy way he seemed to be losing himself in whatever task it was that he was completing. It warmed Claire’s heart in a way that the sunlight could not; it could have been dead of night and it would still have had the same deep impact on her, to hear him so soulfully carrying himself and with a song of all things. It was a soothing balm on her aching heart, and she stood for some time just drinking in the unguarded sound of Mr Fraser’s deep rich voice. She could hear both a melancholy and a little joy in his tone.

_Busk, busk, bonnie lassie_

_And come alang wi' me,_

_I'll tak' ye tae Glenisla,_

_By bonnie Glen Shee._

She couldn’t help herself; she greedily wanted more and so she moved to peek around the side of the croft, with a strong need to see him in that moment. She felt extremely guilty invading his privacy like this but it was such a different man in front of her that she could not leave; he was enchanting. Once she had her first look at him like this, there was no moving her.

She always felt very aware of his size whenever he was near her, but seeing his stature like this, from afar; without his usual tension, he really was an elegant man. Not in a soft way but strong like an oak tree, extending high to the heavens. From behind, his shoulders were so broad, even covered by his shirt. They looked like shoulders that could carry many a weight or burden, as she suspected that they already did. Before she knew it, Claire found herself wondering what they may look like out of the shirt.

Before she had much time to dwell on that delicious, if unexpected, thought, the sunlight caught his beautiful curls, which were tied back with a leather thong. She could see cinnamon, copper and auburn swirls as the light danced over them. He turned slightly and adding to the wave of sensory abundance, she caught sight of his strong nose and chiseled cheeks; she wondered how his stubble felt, _was it soft or rough?_

He bent over the small table in front of him, sleeves rolled up passed his elbows, looking to be carving something into a piece of wood. As fascinated as Claire was with what he was doing, the view his position gave her of his fabulous arse took her breath away. And those thighs; so, defined in his trousers made her feel suddenly felt very hot.

_Jesus H Roosevelt Christ!_

_What would it feel like to run my hands up them and touch his…?_

A sudden and loud pig snort came from the direction of his stable and Claire shot back out of sight, in case he saw her spying on him, her heart beating far too rapidly, as her hand came up to her chest, to steady herself.

“Oh, hawd yer wheest, ye old besom! I’ll get yer food later!” She heard Mr Fraser call out in jest to his old sow.

So suddenly pulled out of her haze, Claire felt guilty at how quickly obscene her thoughts had turned, and him completely innocent to the fact. It was time to go. Nothing more could be gained from speaking to him. He was clearly feeling some element of contentment and Claire was loathed to ruin that for him. She felt cheered enough just witnessing his light mood.

And anyway, the sight of him in the sunlight so unguarded would remain a cherished memory for Claire, for many years to come.

*****

A few days later, it was Christmas Eve. Mr Fraser still came around each day, but she never divulged to him about her unscheduled visit.

Based on past experience, Claire was not likely to get many patients visit her at home, this close to Christmas. Unexpectedly though, she suddenly saw Mr Christie walking hurriedly up her track with his hand clasped to his chest, wrapped in his stock. Claire recognised an injury in need of tending even from that distance. She took herself to the top of her path and called out to him,

“Mr Christie, are you in need of help? What has happened?”

The man looked pale and clammy, clearly struggled with the sight of blood. His hair was a little loose from its cue and a few strands fell over his face. She could also see dark hairs peeking out from his shirt which lay a little open having been ruffled in such haste when his hand needed tending. She tried very hard not to look as he drew closer.

_What on earth is wrong with you? Ogling over a second man in pretty much as many days?!_

_Seems like maybe you could just do with a good sha…_

_Stop it! He’ll be able to see it written all over my face!! And anyway, it is not like that!_

Mr Christie reached her a little out of breath and as he had come closer, she could see that he had beads of sweat on his forehead, despite the cold day.

“Aye, Mistress Beauchamp, I’ve cut my hand and it willnae stop bleeding.”

“I can see. Come inside and we’ll get it tended to.” And she led the way into her croft.

A little reluctantly, he followed her in.

Claire quickly set about assessing the injury. He had managed to cut a rather deep gash into the flesh of his thumb, near the centre of his palm. She had some water on to boil and one of her medicinal pouches of garlic and witch-hazel to help clean the wound out.

“Yes, I think you’ve managed to nick a vein. That’s why it will not stop bleeding. Hmm… I think I’ll need to put in a few stiches. It’ll hurt, I’m afraid.”

Refusing to look at his hand and instead holding the fire in view, he replied rather shakily,

“Aye, whit ever ye think is needed, Mistress.”

Claire set about getting ready and soon enough, after not too much difficulty, she managed to get the wound treated and dressed. Once it was done, she made Mr Christie a cup of willow bark tea and insisted he drink it. He had initially said that he did not need it, but she soon admonished him for trying to be unnecessarily brave and shoved the tea in front of him. Not entirely approving of her bossy edge, he looked at her out of the corner of his eyes and took the cup, recognising defeat when it presented itself. Much to his annoyance it did indeed take the edge off the pain in his hand.

*****

Jamie made his way over to Mistress Beauchamp’s cottage with a bundle of firewood under one arm. He had been out gathering for himself earlier in the day and knew that she tended to run low on a rather regular basis and so as he arrived, he walked straight towards the door. He was a little wary not knowing if she had a patient inside and as he got closer he could indeed hear that she had.

After a moment he thought to leave the firewood on the floor but then he heard who was inside with her and his mood dropped instantly.

_Christie!_

Jamie knew the man would not be able to stay away the moment he had seen his reaction in the tavern to meeting Mistress Beauchamp for the first time! There had definitely been a connection between them both. Much as Jamie did not want to be here listening to this horror, he found himself rooted to the spot and unable to move.

***** 

After a short while of slightly easier conversation, Mr Christie decided to extend an invitation to this engaging woman.

“I, er, was wondering Mistress Beauchamp, if ye had any plans fir Hogmanay?”

Claire was a little taken a back. This man was so confusing; one minute he was scowling at her; the next he seemed to be about to invite her out. She really did not enjoy large crowds of people anymore and so she tried to remain calm and nonchalant at his question.

“Oh, why do you ask?”

“Well, it is only that we always have a gathering at The Unicorn and Stag is all. Tae see in the new year together. I wondered if ye might like tae join us?”

His face beamed a flush of red as Mistress Beauchamp turned to look at him. Her first thought in that moment turned to Mr Fraser, for some reason.

“Is Mr Fraser invited? If you see in the new year together, that is. Does he come too?”

Claire could see that Mr Christie was not happy at her mention of Mr Fraser. Her curiosity though had completely gotten the better of her; his avoidance of the village; the reaction of Mr Hunter when she had mentioned him; Mr Christie’s reaction when he had seen Mr Fraser in the tavern when he had rescued Willie. They had almost seemed like two proud stags vying for the attentions of the doe.

“No. Mr Fraser will no be attending. He keeps himself tae himself and that’s better fir all o’ us if the truth be known. Ye should be careful o’ that man, Mistress. He’s no trustworthy and a naïve woman as yerself could easily be taken in by him. But he’ll only let ye down. He is no worth the muck on yer shoe. He is a selfish man, and he is a coward!”

Still standing outside, Jamie heard every word Christie said. The invite to the party and the scathing comments about his character. As much as he hated Tom Christie, the man spoke the truth. He was not worth the muck on Mistress Beauchamp’s shoe. He _would_ let her down; he _was_ indeed selfish and yes, he was a coward.

He knew all these things by heart but hearing them spoken allowed to this enchanting woman; a woman who he knew that Christie had set his sights on, well, it made Jamie want to hurl the firewood to the ground and pulverise it on the spot, with his bare fists. 

In the end though, he simply turned and left, no-one the wiser about his sudden visit, the firewood hurled to the ground once he was some distance away from the croft. 

*****

Claire stood up straight at Mr Christie’s unkind words about Mr Fraser. She felt a tremendous anger at hearing him being spoken about so callously, and not here to defend himself. Never one to be shy of standing up for injustice when she saw it, she responded with a passion she did not realise she possessed for the red-headed Scot,

“What an utterly appalling thing to say about him! I couldn’t disagree more! As a matter of fact, from the moment I met him he has gone out of his way to help me. He has repeatedly shown me that he is anything _but_ selfish; why, I’ve had him offer me the last of his food without request and he _certainly_ isn’t a coward!”

She found herself unable to quiet her voice and its volume continued to rise as she spoke. Pointing in the vague direction of his croft she bent to get closer to Mr Christie and corrected him,

“I watch that man carry a near-grown young man for two miles, in the middle of a storm, into a village that he knew did not want him; to ensure that the lad did not die without his family near him and when that lad begged him to stay, he did so. Despite the fact that you and every other person in that room ignored him and made it perfectly clear that he was not welcome, nor wanted! Willie begged him to stay and stay he did! He is a man of honour; he is my _friend,_ and I will not hear him spoken of in that manner. I would trust him with my life, Mr Christie, with my life!” 

A look of incredulity quickly spread across his face, only to be replaced with one of pity. Slowly, Mr Christie stood up and facing her he told her softly, 

“That man does not deserve such kind thoughts from a fine woman such as yerself, Mistress. Mark my words; when ye need him, he will let ye down. Just as he did everyone before.”

He reached into his pocket and found a coin, which he tossed onto the table.

“I thank ye fir yer doctoring, Mistress. Have a fine day.” 

And with that, he took his leave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peaking out from behind my Outlander scarf* 
> 
> How you doing after the arrival of Mr Christie??!! OK?? 
> 
> He's a rather devisive character, I think, but I must confess that he is one that I find really interesting in canon! 
> 
> I've always felt that he was a 'poor man's' Jamie Fraser; a Jamie Fraser 'almost-ran' - do you know what I mean? 
> 
> When you look at their stories in canon, they have great similarities:  
> 1\. They are both men for whom their faith is really important to them  
> 2\. They are both leaders of men (after all, Tom was in charge at Ardsmuir before Jamie arrives)  
> 3\. They both have a capacity for great love  
> 4\. They are both proud men, capable of jealousy.  
> 5\. They both fall in love with Claire.  
> 6\. They both sacrifice themselves to save her.
> 
> The BIG difference and the one that ultimately leads to Tom's undoing and makes the balance of his flaws so different to Jamie's is that he married a 'Geilis'; not a 'Claire'....
> 
> Anyway, I've really enjoyed exploring Tom's character here and in Part II. I hope you will indulge me... 
> 
> Part 2 is written and we'll see then how Tom serves to help our characters progress their relationship. 
> 
> I mean, we already know in this universe that our heroes get together....right?!


	16. Tom Christie - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take a number of very unexpected turns for our heroes.... more erotic dreams; unexpected visits and heartache!
> 
> We join the story still in flashback the day that Tom and Claire have their terse conversation. It is now the evening....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ********NSFW*********
> 
> My word, there is a LOT going on in this chapter...
> 
> Best to think of it as a rollercoaster ride - the twist and turns are all part of the journey! 
> 
> ********  
> ********
> 
> Previously...
> 
> “I watch that man carry a near-grown young man for 2 miles, in the middle of a storm, into a village that he knew did not want him; to ensure that the lad did not die without his family near him and when that lad begged him to stay, he did so. Despite the fact that you and every other person in that room ignored him and made it perfectly clear that he was not welcome, nor wanted! Willie begged him to stay and stay he did! He is a man of honour; he is my friend, and I will not hear him spoken of in that manner. I would trust him with my life, Mr Christie, with my life!”  
> A look of incredulity quickly spread across his face, only to be replaced with one of pity. Slowly, Mr Christie stood up and facing her he told her softly,  
> “That man does not deserve such kind thoughts from a fine woman such as yerself, Mistress. Mark my words; when ye need him, he will let ye down. Just as he did everyone before.”  
> He reached into his pocket and found a coin, which he tossed onto the table.  
> “I thank ye fir yer doctoring, Mistress. Have a fine day.”  
> And with that, he took his leave. 
> 
> **********  
> **********

**_FLASHBACK CONTINUED…._ **

_Claire was getting herself ready for bed. She had removed her dusty clothes and shift and had given her body a quick clean before putting on her night shift. It had been warming over the back of the chair by the hearth and felt divine when she put it on; Scotland was so cold this deep into winter!_

_As she walked over to her cot, pulling the covers back, she heard a noise at the door; she was sure she had locked it. Looking round in shock though, she saw Mr Fraser standing in the doorway, wearing the same things he had had on that day when she had stolen those few private moments watching him._

_His hair was still pulled back, but a few strands were gloriously loose across his face; his shirt was open at the front with no stock to hold it and those trousers still did things to her insides every time she found his solid thighs in her eyeline._

_There was something different about his manner in this moment. Claire realised that his frown was gone and that it had been replaced with a stare of unabashed hunger and it was aimed directly at her._

_Keeping her in his sights Mr Fraser confidently walked up to her and stopped. She had to lift her head up to hold his stare, his eyes dilated to a near complete black. As if in slow motion, his hands came up to her body; one grabbing the back of her head, one planted flat on her upper back, pulling her close and the kiss he gave her made her toes curl; her insides melt, all in response to the feelings of utter pleasure his soft, delicious lips bestowed. She brought her hands up to caress his face and to feel his stubble with her fingers, it was delightfully rough against all her skin and she could not get enough of it._

_When they both reluctantly broke their lips apart, to catch their breath, he held his forehead against hers and in a low rumble asked her,_

_“Will ye come tae bed wie me, then?”_

_All she could do was nod once before he bent down and placed one hand around her waist to pick her up, as his other strong hand brought her right thigh high up by his own hip. She could feel the strength of his arousal for her pressing into her own centre._

_“I want this! God, how I want this!” she thought._

_Mr Fraser placed her down onto the bed and instructed her to take off her shift. Enjoying being led by this fine specimen of a man, she removed it and threw it to the end of the cot. She watched him as he took in her naked body and her eyes stayed on him as first, he removed his own shirt and then slowly undid his belt, it too joining the growing pile of abandoned clothes._

_As his hands went to the fastening on his trousers, Claire sat up, stilled his hands with her own and whispered,_

_“Allow me.”_

_He moved his hands away and replied hoarsely,_

_“Aye.”_

_His groin was at eye level as she looked up at him and pulled the sides apart, exposing the top of his enticing auburn hair and more. He looked down at her with wanton lust shining in his eyes; he was hiding nothing from her. She was near giddy at the need to feel that firm, round arse she had seen and slowly stood up so that she was again standing in front of him. She brought her palms solidly up his hard abs and over his large, firm pecs, making him shiver with delight; when she reached his shoulders, her hands spread over them and down the sides of his arms. Finally, she reached around and into the back of his loose trousers to grab two great handfuls, making his rigidness press into her, before she pushed the last of the clothing between them to the ground. He stepped out of them and stood before her in all his naked glory._

_It was his turn to reach and fondle her arse then and as he did so, he gave out a low rumble; he kissed her fervently and lifted her so that she was straddling him, her arms wrapped around his neck. She could feel his hot arousal already teasing her as he moved them onto the cot and laid her down, all the while never leaving her embrace._

_She felt herself touch Heaven when he began to kiss her jaw; her neck and made his journey slowly south to her breasts. He lathed her left nipple with his tongue and sucked it into his mouth with a groan, before he nipped it with his teeth; all the while, his calloused left hand kneaded her right breast, and the roughness was wonderful. He squeezed that nipple between his finger and thumb, the combined sensations of it all causing Claire to buck and cry out in deep pleasure._

_She grabbed down to his head as it began to descend further south and pulled him up to her eye line again. She needed him in her…immediately! In a husky tone she instructed him,_

_“Do it now…and don’t be gentle!”_

_He gave her a smirk and nodded. He took hold of himself and set it at her entrance and in one fluid thrust he filled her to his hilt. They both groaned in happy pleasure as she felt him stretch her inner folds to accommodate him and he felt her snug walls envelope his full length._

_Rising his torso above her, he began to pull back out, only to slam back into her again with a joyful moan. After a few hard thrusts which caused her eyes to light up, he began a fierce, relentless rhythm. The sensations were so overwhelming that Claire lost all inhibitions and before she knew it, she was also moaning aloud in ecstasy. She grabbed his arse in both hands and opened her legs wider, keen for him to hit deeper inside and he was only too willing to deliver._

_“Christ, Claire, ye feel so good! So hot; so wet. Yer mine…Yer mine!” He growled._

_He nearly sent her over the edge when he again groaned; grabbed around the back of her arse whilst picking up the speed of his thrusts, as they both felt their arousal ramp up to peak. Claire could not stop the whines and moans that were escaping her. Hearing him say her name like that had sent another current of pleasure straight to her centre._

_“Christ, I cannae get enough of ye. I’m nearly there. I’m nearly there! Come wie me!” He implored, through clenched teeth._

A sudden brae in the night from Clarence saw Claire shocked to a rude awakening, alone and naked in her bed.

“Fuck! No!!”

_I was so close!_

Her hand grappled at the quilt that partially covered her to move it out of the way; she needed something; anything! In a flurry she found her swollen mound under her shift and making her finger slick with her more than abundant nectar she rubbed and rubbed, holding the erotic images in her mind of Mr Fraser pummelling into her, until the intense orgasm her dream had promised quickly crashed over her.

As the intense feelings began to fade, all that she was then left with was the battle to regain her breath.

_Well…_

_That was new!_

_*****_

As the most powerful orgasm she had had in a long time had slowly begun to fade. She had found herself replaying all that she had dreamt herself doing, and with Mr Fraser no less! She would find that as time passed, she would still blush every time she thought about the erotic fantasy. Not because she was ashamed of it though, but because it made her arousal surge all over again. 

***** 

The next morning was Christmas day and after no sign of Mr Fraser the day before, nor that morning, she decided to head over to his cottage to wish him a Merry Christmas. Her outburst at Mr Christie and the unexpected views she had shared made her want to be near him today. She felt both in need of protection herself and an unusual need to protect him too, feeling that being together might accomplish that.

A sudden flurry of snow began to fall as she made her way over and she wrapped her shawl tighter around her body with each trudge. Rather disappointingly, he was nowhere to be seen. She peered into the window but could see no sign of him. She even took a walk into the woods behind their homes, but to no avail. She wondered if perhaps he had had an invitation to spend Christmas somewhere; with someone. She didn't think so but...well, it was Christmas after all.

Feeling rather dejected, she headed back to her croft and spent the rest of the day alone, thinking of absent friends and family. It was turning out to be another awful Christmas.

A few hours after her visit, Jamie returned from his long walk through the woods. He had spent the early afternoon trying to shift his melancholy mood. As he rounded the side of the cottage, he noticed snowy imprints outside his croft, heading back in a certain direction and realised that he had missed Mistress Beauchamp. It touched him that she had come to see him, given the day and he considered going to visit. In the end though, Tom Christie’s words kept repeating themselves over and over in his head and any confidence he had about being able to cope with being near her for now quickly evaporated into the cold December air. He would perhaps go back in a few days.

_Coward!_

_Leave me be!_

Jamie took himself into his small croft and shut the door on what had been the worst Christmas he had had in a fair few years.

*****

After Christmas day, Claire had a few patients come to see her and she also went down into the village. She saw neither Mr Christie, nor Mr Fraser on her travels, but when she returned each day, she could see that Clarence had been fed, his bed changed; the chickens had been given their corn and the manure had been mucked out too. She was sad to have missed Mr Fraser but tried hard not to dwell on it too much. She recognised now that he sometimes needed his space; he knew where she was if he wanted to see her. As hard as it was sometimes, he was worth the wait.

*****

A few days before Hogmanay, she was very much surprised to see Mr Christie slowly walking up the track to her croft. He did not look injured this time and she wondered why he had come. They had parted on such strong words last time; she was surprised that he wished to again consort with such a strongly minded woman like herself, when it seemed to annoy him so much. In fact, every time she was with him it seemed to be tense and full of conflict.

“Are you well, Mr Christie? I had not expected to see you quite so soon. Is your hand healing well?”

Mr Christie looked a little abashed and reassured her,

“Thank ye, Mistress. My hand is fine. I am well...I trust ye had a good Christmas yerself?”

Claire stood looking at him and made no effort to respond at first.

_How could he stand there and pretend not to remember our cross words just days ago?_

Eventually, she relented and told him.

“Well, it was quiet, Mr Christie. Make of that what you will. How can I help you then? If you are not here for an ailment that is.”

Once again, her directness caught him unawares and he stumbled to find the words now that he had been called upon to speak them. His head dropped to his chest in resignation and taking a moment to find the courage to say what he wanted to say, he lifted his head and began,

“I owe ye an apology, Mistress. I spoke harshly to ye when we last met an’ I am sorry for it.”

“I think it is Mr Fraser to whom you owe the apology, Mr Christie.” Claire simply stated.

This made him visibly bristle.

“Mistress Beauchamp, I take yer point that I should no have spoken ill o’ the man, when he was no there tae argue his point. But…”

Claire went to interrupt but Mr Christie persevered,

“BUT ye havnae been here long, Mistress. Ye dinnae understand some of the history that is at play here. I never meant tae upset ye an’ I apologise if I have. I would simply ask that ye go cautiously into any friendship wie Fraser. I would hate tae see a fine woman as yerself hurt in any way by that man.”

*****

Jamie had decided that today was the day that he would make the effort to speak to Mistress Beauchamp in person again. He felt that things had taken a positive step forward in their friendship after the sad dealings of Willie’s death and so he was sure that she would not be cross at him for not being so visible for the last week. Hopefully, Christie would be far gone now, and he could spend some time in Mistress Beauchamp’s company uninhibited. Unfortunately, nothing could have been further from the truth and his timing would turn out to be utterly dire. 

*****

Claire was still not happy at how Mr Christie spoke of Mr Fraser, but she had to concede that he was right; she really had not been here in Broch Murdha for very long and there clearly _was_ a backstory that she did not understand. It was, after all, more than just Mr Christie who had warned her about Mr Fraser in the last few months. She still felt lead by her instinct though and that told her that Mr Fraser was a good man.

Mr Christie took the opportunity of her pause of thought to reach into his pocket and take out a small, blue, velvet drawstring bag. Hesitantly, he held it out to her, explaining,

“I hope ye will permit me, Mistress. I would very much like ye tae accept this small gift as both a token o’ my regret at upsetting ye an’ o’ my…. admiration of ye.”

Claire looked at the pretty bag in shock as she found herself instinctively reaching out to take it.

_Admiration? Of me?!_

She could feel something hard inside and slowly opened the soft bag. She pulled out a beautifully carved wooden comb. It had a Celtic braid engraved on each side of it. She looked back up at him speechless, to see a rare look of hope and tenderness on his face. She felt torn at the sight of it; on the one hand, she felt Incredibly moved and on the other, she felt uneasy somehow. Either way, she could see that this honesty came at a great cost to Mr Christie. 

“Mr Christie, I…I don’t know what to say. It is beautiful. Thank you.”

Relieved and pleased that she had not only accepted the gift, but also seemed to like it, he shyly nodded his head. In a reverent voice he replied,

“Ye are very welcome, Mistress Beauchamp.”

Claire ran her fingers over the delicate pattern and smiled at its impressive workmanship. Looking up to see Mr Christie emboldened by her reaction, she ventured,

“Did you make this yourself, Mr Christie?”

He found that the pride he felt at his work caused a rare smile to spread across his face briefly and rather hoarsely he told her,

“Aye. Aye, I did. The truth is ye are a truly incredible woman, Mistress Beauchamp. From the moment I met ye, ye captivated me.”

Keen to show her that he was a worldly man, he continued in a soft, quiet tone, hoping to speak to her soul,

“Vous êtes comme…une étoile éblouissante. _You are like a dazzling star_.”

In that moment, the air sucked itself out of Claire’s chest. Her heart stopped and her throat constricted. She fought to keep control of herself, fearing that she might scream aloud.

_He doesn’t know!_

_It’s not his fault!_

A distant and unwelcome memory came crashing towards her, set on engulfing her again. She heard that god-awful phrase that had careered around her head for so long after it had happened…

_Mon étoile éblouissante!_

_Mon étoile éblouissante!_

_My dazzling star!_

Mr Christie was so caught up in having finally found the courage to speak his heart to Mistress Beauchamp that he failed to see the swift change in her demeanour, or to notice the sudden clamminess that her skin had taken on and thus he continued, unabashed,

“I ken we hadnae really made any firm plans, but I wish tae ask ye again if ye would consider accompanyin’ me tae the Hogmanay celebrations tomorrow?”

Claire barely registered Mr Christie’s words and took a moment to find herself as she battled to push those unwanted memories back into the box that they had escaped from. She shook her head and said the first thing that came to mind. _Escape!_

“Oh, that is…” She faltered,

“That is very kind of you, Mr Christie, but actually…I’ve been thinking that perhaps it is time for me to be moving on.”

He was horrified at the thought. This was _not_ where he had expected the conversation to go!

“Leave? Ye mean…leave Broch Murdha? But…why?”

_Shit! What did I say that for? Just because I can’t bare the thought of all those…men... in one place?_

_Well, I’ve bloody well committed myself now!_

“Yes.” She replied.

“I do not tend to stay too long in one place and well, this was only meant to be me passing through, really. And it is nearly a new year so, you see, I will be busy packing up probably. No time to celebrate.”

Mr Christie was beside himself hearing her speak of such a horrible plan.

“But. But…ye cannae leave! Ye cannae! Mistress, please! Say ye’ll come tae the celebration, please…I ...I.”

In his desperation to convey his deep feelings to her, having been so unfamiliar with sharing _any_ feelings for so long, he did the only thing he could think of to show her; he took a sudden step forward and reached out, taking her head firmly between his hands. He kissed her boldly with passion and sincerity, his lips pressed against hers, willing her to understand his profound affection for her.

*****

As he walked towards the Beauchamp croft, Jamie occupied his mind with plans of what he might say to Mistress Beauchamp, should she be there when he arrived. He wondered if she had had many visitors keen to make use of her healing services since he had last seen her. He enjoyed thinking about her in that way, still so impressed with her command of the situation when he had brought Willie McCulloch to her. 

She really was an incredible woman; unlike anyone he had every met before. His mind wandered on to whether he should go and visit the McCulloch’s to offer his condolences. He was just mulling this over when he came around the side of the stable and stopped in his tracks at the scene playing out in front of him.

Bloody Tom Christie was there, and by the looks of things he had just gifted Claire a present. She seemed touched by the thought and he watched in anguish as she ran her fingers over whatever it was that the bastard had given her!

He heard Christie declare his affections for her.

_He’s speakin’ in bloody French tae her!_

_Vous bâtard visqueux! Ye slimy bastard!_

He heard Christie invite her again to the Hogmanay celebrations.

And then two things happened that split his soul wide open like the sudden slash of a knife, with a nasty twist for good measure. He heard Mistress Beauchamp tell Christie that she was planning on leaving and then, to his horror, he saw Christie take hold of her beautiful face and kiss her.

Jamie turned and stumbled away. There was a sudden loud ringing in his ears; his chest felt constricted and he was in real danger of letting out a guttural scream that he feared would never end. They must not hear him!

He ran and ran, until he was deep into the woods and his grief brought his body staggering hard into a solid oak tree. He pressed his head onto it.

Knowing that she would never be his was one thing but knowing that she may become someone _else’s_ was unspeakable. With his chest heaving he proceeded to bang his forehead repeatedly against the solid trunk, letting out a primeval roar that grew and grew until his voice painfully broke. Sucking in his breath with a delirious sob, he lifted his head and pummelled the wide trunk with his fists over and over until they were torn and bleeding, desperate to distract himself from the pain of what he had witnessed.

Having previously thought himself already sufficiently broken, Jamie was again bereft in an additional and entirely different way than he had ever experience before. He collapsed onto the ground, cradling his bruised hands, and long after the initial fury had left him; and only utter dejection remained, he took himself off to the private retreat of his croft.

Alone.

As always.

*****

Jamie’s dreams tormented him further that night.

He dreamt of Mistress Beauchamp and Christie bringing in the new year together at The Unicorn and Stag, revelling with the other villagers enjoying the evening with them too.

He saw Christie take Mistress Beauchamp by the hand and lead her out into the quiet square, unnoticed by anyone. 

He saw him turn and slide his arm around her waist, pulling her close so that he could whisper words of affection into her ear.

He saw Mistress Beauchamp throw her head back and laugh at something humorous the bastard had said to her.

He saw her stop smiling as the chemistry between them became overwhelming and they looked deep into one another’s eyes.

And he watched, in silent horror, as she took Christie’s bearded face in her hands, much as Christie had done to her at the croft that day; smoothed her thumbs over his bearded cheeks and kissed him with feeling and passion. 

Jamie awoke in his cot with a start, his body dripping with sweat. His face fell apart as if he was struck by a physical pain, and he turned to bury himself into the edge of the cot where it met the wall. Broken-hearted, his soul let out a silent scream that only the wall could hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeek! Are you ok? What a place to end it eh?! 
> 
> I know, right?! Poor Jamie. 
> 
> I hope it moved you and you enjoyed reading it. Don't worry though - the next chapter is written and it's worth the wait! 
> 
> We needed them to go through these painful things to help clear their minds about their feelings a bit...


	17. 10,000 hits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, I cannot believe it - I woke up this morning to this story having hit 10,000 hits!!

I can’t thank you enough for all the support that you have given me with your lovely comments and kudos over these first 16 chapters.  
I decided that if I hit 10,000 I would released the next chapter a little early and so I’ll look to post that later on this evening (it’s just gone midday here in Britain so that will be in about 10 hours)

This is my first story that I have ever written let along shared and your words of encouragement and reassurance and enjoyment have meant the world to me. If you’ve ever taken the time to share your thoughts, I really really do appreciate it.

I really hope you enjoy the next chapter - it should make up for the last two!!


	18. Hogmanay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well here it is, the next chapter a little early in celebration of hitting 10,000 hits! 
> 
> I hope it makes up for the trauma and angst of the last 2!! Eek!
> 
> We stay in flashback and pick Jamie up the next evening, which is Hogmanay. 
> 
> We end the chapter back in their present day, just after the comb from Tom Christie has fallen from Claire's folded skirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** 
> 
> Previously.....
> 
> Claire smiled and pulled herself reluctantly away and went over to the bed where she had spread out her clean outfit. As she lifted the outer skirt to remove any creases, she heard something fall out of its folds and on to the ground. Jamie walked over to help and picked up the small blue bag, looking at it. She hesitantly reached out for it, unsure of how Jamie might react when he realised what it was.  
> Looking up from it, she shyly shrugged her shoulders and said two words,
> 
> “Tom Christie.”
> 
> “But. But…ye cannae leave! Ye cannae! Mistress, please! Say ye’ll come tae the celebration, please…I ...I.”  
> In his desperation to convey his deep feelings to her, having been so unfamiliar with sharing any feelings for so long, he did the only thing he could think of to show her; he took a sudden step forward and reached out, taking her head firmly between his hands. He kissed her boldly with passion and sincerity, his lips pressed against hers, willing her to understand his profound affection for her. 
> 
> Jamie awoke in his cot with a start, his body dripping with sweat. His face fell apart as if he was struck by a physical pain, and he turned to bury himself into the edge of the cot where it met the wall. Broken-hearted, his soul let out a silent scream that only the wall could hear.

**_Flashback continued_ **

****

**_Hogmanay_ **

Jamie had no idea how he had made it through the next day and he had no idea how he was going to make it through the coming night. In fact, at this moment in time, he could not even fathom quite how he was going to find the strength to take his very next breath, let alone carry on after that.

He sat in front of his fire, a whisky in hand and stared into the flames. Looking down at his bruised hands, he lost himself thinking about just how quickly things could change in the blink of an eye.

He really thought that he and Mistress Beauchamp had had a connection, but he had heard it from her own mouth; she was leaving, and he had seen her kiss that bastard Christie! He must have been wrong about what it was between them. It had felt special and rare; at least to him. He still had not shed a single tear but the deafening noise in his head had not stopped from the moment he saw the bastard’s face descend on to hers. Lost in his devastation, he missed the first knock at his door, only turning suddenly at the second.

_Who the hell is this?_

Concerned that it may be trouble, he opened the door only a crack, his foot wedged tight behind it and his dirk held firmly in his hand, by his side. To his utter shock though, rather than a band of drunken villagers itching for a fight, what he saw was a cold and rather nervous-looking Mistress Beauchamp. He opened the door further in complete shock checking to see if she was alone. She was.

Lifting her head to greet him, she moved her weight from foot to foot trying to dispel the chill and smiled, quietly saying,

“Happy New Year, Mr Fraser! I hope you don't mind me visiting but I found that I’d really rather not be on my own again tonight... I've brought gifts! See here, some coal and some salt. That’s right isn’t it? I think I’m meant to bring whisky too, but well, it’s been a rather long Christmas and I seem to have run out. I suspect that you have the best whisky around so I’m sure you have that covered anyway! It’s good luck to have a first footer isn’t it?"

He stared at her in disbelief that she was there and could not find the wherewithal to reply to her and so they stood there; staring at one another for a few seconds, before Mistress Beauchamp took the lead,

“Um…I don’t mean to be rude, Mr Fraser, but I think it’s only good luck if I actually step _over_ the threshold and its _freezing_ out here…. please, may I come in? I know it’s late but…well…it is Hogmanay!”

Still completely unable to process her presence; much less her words, he stepped aside and gestured for her to come in.

She pushed the coal and salt into his chest. His dirk still in hand, he clumsily raised his hands to take them before they fell. Claire looked quickly up and down the blade as she moved past him, and took herself into the room by the fire. Removing her cloak, she looked back to find Mr Fraser still standing by the door seemingly dumbstruck. She tried again,

“I know you are a man of few words Mr Fraser, but might you say _something_ to me. Just so that I know you have not been struck poorly and are in need of my doctoring.”

At this point, she noticed the ragged state of his knuckles and head. They were covered in cuts and they looked painfully bruised.

_What on earth has he been doing?_

“Actually, maybe you do need me to doctor you…. what on earth happened to your hands, your head? Did you have an accident? Did someone hurt you?”

She found herself full of concern and the frustration at the injustice of how she had seen him being treated in the previous weeks came to the surface; the tavern with Willie; Mr Christie’s cruel words. She looked at him, clearly anxious to understand what had befallen him.

Her blunt scrutiny galvanised him into action. He closed the door and moving slowly into the room, he held the gifts up to his chest and searched for his voice. With a rasp, he ignored her question and instead he gravely asked,

“I thought ye were goin’ tae the tavern wie Christie?”

His tolerance had long since evaporated and he found himself left with no patience to approach the topic in a gentlemanly way; with delicacy.

Her gaze dropped at the reminder of the previous day’s events, but then she quickly looked back up and squinted her eyes, questioning him,

“How did you know that?”

Feeling his cheeks getting red, he bought himself some time by depositing the gifts and blade onto the main table, pulling a second chair towards the fire and pouring out a whisky for her before he confessed,

“I, er, I heard Christie ask ye…yesterday…at yer croft.”

“Oh… o-o-oh!” She eyed him with concern. A lot had happened yesterday. 

“So…how much did you see of what happened?”

Jamie swept his eyes to the fire, scowled, and sat himself down. He reached for his drink and took a long swig of Whisky. That action alone gave her the answer.

“I saw enough.” He sullenly replied, his jaw tensing and his grip tightening on the cup.

“So, you saw him kiss me then?” She asked matter-of-factly.

_Christ, does she have tae rub it in ma face by talkin’ so blatantly about it?!_

“Aye.” He tensely replied.

“And then you saw me slap him for doing so?” She asked.

Jamie’s head snapped up.

“Ye whit? Ye slapped him?” He was stunned!

“No, I never saw that! I left when I saw him kiss ye…after ye’d opened his gift tae ye.”

What he did not know was that in his haste to leave the scene, he never saw Mistress Beauchamp pull away in shock at Christie’s actions.

He never saw the hard slap she landed on his cheek.

He never saw the look of surprise on Christie’s face, nor the secondary look of horror when he realised exactly what he had done.

He never saw the understanding dawn on Christie’s face that this had sealed their fate; she would never be his; he knew in that moment that she really never had been.

He never heard the apologies spilling from Christie’s lips.

He never saw the brave, defiant stance of Mistress Beauchamp comprehending that she had exorcised one of her smaller demons that day and he never saw the tears of dejection and heartbreak fall from Christie’s eyes as he turned and walked away from her.

Clearly, he had been far from the only one to have had a sleepless night.

In fact, Claire had spent the last night and most of that day mulling over the events that had occurred with Mr Christie and what she had come to realise was that whilst she had felt somewhat of an attraction to him, he simply did not make her feel the same way that she did when she was around Mr Fraser.

What she had come to truly grasp was that whilst she did not require Mr Fraser to fight her battles for her; she felt safe with him and her unexpected words regarding him the week before, she now knew to be true; she would trust Mr Fraser with her life. There was much that she did not know or understand about Mr Fraser, but she knew that they both deserved that; safety, friendship and trust. 

Looking at his disheveled and distressed state and guessing at the cause of it, she decided there and then that she needed to make sure that he knew _all_ of what had happened between her and Mr Christie. And so, she took her time explaining the whole story, as they sat warmed by the fire. She omitted nothing but when Mr Fraser stayed silent even after the end, her brief show of confidence disappeared and she found herself once again apologising to him,

“I’m sorry Mr Fraser, I…em, I seem to have been wittering on again! I know I can be very annoying to you, sometimes.”

Mumbling, she continued,

“Actually, to be quite honest with you, I often feel quite stupid and useless when I am around you. I’m…”

He interrupted her at that. He would not have it. Speaking in a strong tone he told her,

“Dinnae say that.”

His firm words and the tone with which he spoke them silenced her; they changed the air in the room; lending it a certain weight. Resolutely, he continued,

“Yer no annoyin’; or stupid; and yer certainly no useless. In fact, yer the most incredible person that I have ever met, Mistress Beauchamp an’ dinnae let me or anyone _every_ make ye believe differently. Ye light up every room that ye walk intae an’ ye make people’s lives better, wie a’ yer skills and compassion…”

Having finally given voice to some of the wonderful thoughts that he had been having of her, he continued,

“I find myself rather in awe of ye, truth be known.”

He had struck her completely dumb with his many thoughtful words. In return, she could only stare at him in wonder at where such sweet sentiments had come from, where they had been hidden. 

Jamie could see that he had surprised her, and his insides relaxed an infinitesimal amount at the sight. He had to know though, 

“……I heard ye tell Christie that ye were planning on leavin'? Is that true?” he cast a piercing stare towards her, awaiting her response.

Mistress Beauchamp went to answer and then stopped, oblivious to his stare; lost in self-reflection. She seemed to be searching for the right words,

“I hadn’t meant it when I said it. But I would be lying if I said that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind since; that perhaps it is time…”

Jamie rose swiftly from his seat, placed his whisky gently on the table and walked over to a large chest that was against one wall of the room. Sat on top of it was a large piece of burlap covering something that sat about 2 foot high. He hesitated in front of it for a moment and then boldly, he lifted it up with both hands and brought it over to the main table, near where Mistress Beauchamp was sitting. He stood back and she realised that he wanted her to look at whatever this item was.

Nothing could have prepared her for the incredible sight that she uncovered. As she stood and removed the material from atop it, she revealed the most beautiful handmade, wooden medical chest. She realised that _this_ is clearly what she had seen Mr Fraser working on the previous week and the thoughtful gesture, along with how much time he must have spent making it, brought tears to her eyes. She replayed the contentment and near... _joy_ that she had seen that day on his face as he had worked the wood.

“Oh. Mr Fraser. I don’t know what…It’s beautiful. Is it for me?” She said, her voice cracking as she looked over at him.

Pursing his lips together in an effort to not let the emotion he felt escape him, he simply nodded and stepped back.

“Really?” She whispered and smiled through swimming eyes.

Claire stepped forwards. As she ran her hands over the smooth wood, she took in the detail and marveled at the incredible craftmanship that it demonstrated. Made from local ash, most likely taken from the woods behind them she thought, the chest opened to reveal small drawers along the lower half and a lift-out section in the top that revealed a space for bottles. Carved ornately into the top were the initials “C.B.” and a beautifully worked piece of leather made a sturdy handle for the box.

Her wonder at the gift rendered her voice a whisper again but still she asked him, to be sure,

“Did you make this? Is this…Is this made by your own hand, Mr Fraser?”

He could see her delight beginning to grow and he gave a fleeting smile as he nodded to her again, not yet trusting his voice. 

She swallowed the lump back down into her throat and beheld its beauty some more. It was quite simply _the_ most precious gift anyone had every given her. Whilst the comb that Mr Christie had crafted was heart-felt and appropriate given her wily curls, _this_ gift spoke of her soul; of her purpose, not just her looks. The giver of _this_ gift saw her true self and championed it.

Mr Fraser then spoke softly. In truth, he was trying with all his strength not to fall to the ground and beg her to stay, but outwardly he was simply tender, sharing his wisdom with her,

“The people here; they need ye. They may no realise it…”

Hesitating initially, he carried on in that soothing tone.

“…and they may no feel able to say it yet, but they _need_ ye nonetheless.”

It occurred to her that it may not just have been the villagers of whom Mr Fraser was speaking and that thought made her heart warm for a moment with hope.

He still had to know though and so he pushed her again for an answer; he simply could not survive another moment without knowing how serious she was about leaving them; leaving him. Without looking at her he asked,

“Will ye stay?”

Recognising that his gift had said much about how things truly stood between them, she replied reassuringly,

“Yes. Yes, I’ll stay…If you think I should?” She turned her head to seek his view.

He let his eyes close momentarily and then, still not looking in her direction, he whispered,

“Aye. I do.”

Suddenly remembering, Claire quickly turned to root around in her skirt’s inside pocket and pulled out a small parcel of her own. Wrapped in a pretty oatmeal linen swatch and tied with a pale blue ribbon, it was clearly a gift of some sort. She smiled in Mr Fraser’s direction and offered the gift to him.

“Here. I nearly forgot! It’s not as wonderful as your beautiful handmade gift but…. well, I picked it out for you and I…I hope you like it.”

Jamie felt once again as if the axis of his being was shifting unexpectedly and all he could do was stare in shock…and try to hold on!

Having failed to take the parcel from her, she saw that he was struggling and so she slowly moved towards him and placed it in his hands. He looked down at it and very deliberately he moved a hand from under it and set about slowly removing the wrapping, both to savour the rare experience and in bewilderment.

Pulling at the bonnie ribbon, he found inside a copy of the poems of John Donne. Books had been one of his few saviours in the last ten years; they had been some of the only things he had taken from Lallybroch, and poetry was his favourite. It was a gift that spoke of a mutual understanding between them. It made him feel for the first time in a long time that he was visible to someone; to her. He was truly humbled and touched by her thoughtful gesture and felt a piece of himself find its way back home.

“Thank you, Mistress Beauchamp. Truly.”

Claire felt bold in that moment and made a request of Mr Fraser that would signify the turning of a corner for them,

“Do you think, Mr Fraser…I mean, we are friends…and only if you do not think it too impertinent…but…would you mind very much calling me Claire? Only if you like…”

Here and now was when his heart truly began to thaw, and still in that quiet, deep voice, he agreed,

“Aye, Lass. I would like that very much.” He was deeply moved that such a seemingly slight thing would be important to her. Her heart fluttered at him calling her “Lass”; she liked that very much too and further boosted by his agreement, she make an additional request. With that cheerful but cautious tone of hers she asked,

“May I call you James?”

Another quick smile came and went on his face as he told her,

“Jamie. Call me Jamie.”

She nodded and could not keep the happy smile off her face.

They spent the next hour or two sipping their whisky, gazing into the fire, looking at and talking about their gifts, in a wonderfully easy manner. The exchanging of gifts and kind words had left two people, so often left with little to embrace about each new year arriving, with a profound sense of hope this time. Like tiny shoots, growing from the blackened forest floor, after the devastation of a fire.

The simple act of having someone use their first name was a medicine that even Claire did not know could be so powerful. Beginning this new year without that familiar feeling of abject loneliness was a very welcome feeling for both of them.

Nonetheless, it was late, and Claire found herself stifling a yawn. As much as Jamie wanted to keep her here, it was time to get her to her rest. He stood up and went for his coat.

“Come, let me see ye home.” 

They walked along in comfortable silence, their shoulders, and upper arms on one occasion brushing one another. When they arrived back at Claire’s croft, he waited to be sure that she was safe and had all that she needed for the night. He turned to leave and then found himself turn back and take the plunge to ask her. If the situation with Christie had shown him anything, it was that he would rather die trying than to spend another moment wondering; it was time to take a step forward,

“Would ye…that is…do ye think that…"

_Christ! It’s been a long time since I’ve had tae do this!_

He raised his hand to rub the back of his neck in discomfort, cleared his throat and tried again,

"I was wonderin’ if ye would like tae take a walk wie me some time…Claire?"

Despite the dark night, he could feel her beaming at his request and the use of her first name. He could even hear her smile as she replied,

"Yes, …Jamie. Yes, I would like that very much." 

He gave her a tentative nod as a crooked smile fleetingly passed his face and he turned to leave. Her whisper of “Happy New Year, Jamie!” and the ghost of a touch on his arm would warm him for many cold nights to come. 

**_Flashback ended_ **

****

*********

**Present day – Claire’s croft**

Looking down at the comb brought back a number of difficult memories for Claire and Jamie. Remembering what had been such a poignant moment in their relationship, even if it had been filled with angst and pain as well, found Claire and Jamie with a sudden need to connect. Jamie took the comb that had fallen to the ground and placed it on the table, before he turned around and reached out for her hand, with as comforting a smile as he could muster.

_Bloody Tom Christie!_

_Bastard!_

He led her over to the chair by the fire and sitting down, he pulled her onto his wide lap and a sigh escaped him. She could see that the memories of Tom Christie were making his confidence waver slightly beneath the surface and she sought to quash any chance of it increasing immediately; Jamie’s resurrection was still so new and fragile that she would battle however necessary to keep any chance of it being undone at bay.

To this end, she curled one arm around his shoulders as she sat across his lap; taking his strong jawline in hand, she looked him deep in the eyes and saw the whisper of doubt dance across them. Reassuring him, she held his gaze firmly and with a clear voice, she told him,

“It was always you, Jamie. It was always you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one! Hopefully, it made up for the heart-breaking end of the last chapter. 
> 
> I've posted this one early due to being SO stoked that the story reached 10,000 hits, what is does mean though is that there may be a little longer a gap now before the next chapter. I'll try not to leave it too long! Promise!
> 
> The next couple of the chapters will take us right up to the cause of the brawl on the village that saw Jamie's shirt being ripped off him. 
> 
> Thank you for every comment and kudos! I really appreciate your support!


	19. My Heart Leaps Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the delay! I’m still new at this and beginning a new mini-arc is always a bit tricky. It’s like riding a bike – it’s slow and wobbly until you get your momentum going! Didn’t help that I got a little distracted by the Gabriel’s Inferno films either though – eek! 
> 
> In this chapter, Jamie and Claire reminisce about their first date and Claire tends to another villager...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I though it would be worth just clarifying the timelines here as a number of people have found it a bit confusing. I’ve had a great suggestion of putting flashbacks in italics which is something I find useful in other stories that I have read, but I’m using those in this story for inner thoughts so I’ll stick with the bold titles indicating flashbacks instead for now.  
> So, we have 2 parallel timelines running here – the first is Jamie & Claire's present day, they have just finished lunch at Claire’s homestead, the day after the incident in the village that led Jamie to confess his story and ultimately consummate their relationship; they are reminiscing about their journey together; whilst they reminisce, we have seen them share breakfast together; take in a steamy walk in the woods; they have come to Claire’s and had lunch and now they are about to spend the afternoon at Claire’s homestead in the garden.  
> The second timeline is their journeyfrom first meeting to the brawl in the village that saw Jamie's shirt being ripped off and we are taken back in this chapter to their first ‘date’ and the few days that come after Hogmanay. It therefore falls just after they have spent Hogmanay together and Claire has explained about Tom Christie and has agreed to stay in Broch Murdha.
> 
> Previously....  
> “Come, let me see ye home.”  
> They walked along in comfortable silence, their shoulders, and upper arms on one occasion brushing one another. When they arrived back at Claire’s croft, he waited to be sure that she was safe and had all that she needed for the night. He turned to leave and then found himself turn back and take the plunge to ask her. If the situation with Christie had shown him anything, it was that he would rather die trying than to spend another moment wondering; it was time to take a step forward,  
> “Would ye…that is…do ye think that…"  
> Christ! It’s been a long time since I’ve had tae do this!  
> He raised his hand to rub the back of his neck in discomfort, cleared his throat and tried again,  
> "I was wonderin’ if ye would like tae take a walk wie me some time…Claire?"  
> Despite the dark night, he could feel her beaming at his request and the use of her first name. He could even hear her smile as she replied,  
> "Yes, …Jamie. Yes, I would like that very much."  
> He gave her a tentative nod as a crooked smile fleetingly passed his face and he turned to leave. Her whisper of “Happy New Year, Jamie!” and the ghost of a touch on his arm would warm him for many cold nights to come.
> 
> He led her over to the chair by the fire and sitting down, he pulled her onto his wide lap and a sigh escaped him. She could see that the memories of Tom Christie were making his confidence waver slightly beneath the surface and she sought to quash any chance of it increasing immediately; Jamie’s resurrection was still so new and fragile that she would battle however necessary to keep any chance of it being undone at bay.  
> To this end, she curled one arm around his shoulders as she sat across his lap; taking his strong jawline in hand, she looked him deep in the eyes and saw the whisper of doubt dance across them. Reassuring him, she held his gaze firmly and with a clear voice, she told him,  
> “It was always you, Jamie. It was always you.” 
> 
> Chapter 19

**_Present day_ **

After Claire had found a number of ways to show Jamie that he had nothing to fear from Tom Christie, she had finally got her clean skirt on and they both headed out to work on her garden. Well, it wasn’t a garden yet but as spring was arriving, she wanted to begin preparing a fenced off herb garden to at least avoid having to go into the woods for some of her herbs; this time next year, she hoped that it would be a thriving little patch.

Jamie did not yet know how to point out that if they were to be married, that she might not actually still be living here, but then again, he thought, she could still use it as her healing post. He happily listened to all of her ideas and shared his thoughts on improving them, as well as discussing how they might best achieve them.

Hands on hips, they looked out over the sight that they had picked. The toiled field had been left neglected after its last resident died. They both imagined the little plot blossoming again, in their minds, to a haven of rich, aromatic greenery. Claire excitedly declared,

“I need to get some soil under my nails! I’m going to start digging some of this out, I think!”

It was back-breaking work, what with the homestead having stood empty for such a time. The ground was not overly grassy but after a long, hard winter it was quite compact and hard. Despite the graft, they both enjoyed the connection it gave them to the land around them.

After a few hours, they both stopped and took a seat back at the croft on the bench. Claire made them a cup of tea and found them the very last remnants of Grannie Wemyss’ treacle scones as well.

Jamie leaned back against the windowsill and let out a sigh of such contentment that it made Claire smile and turn to look at him. The grin that had appeared on his face made the apple of his cheeks more pronounced and Claire felt her own happiness sweep over her too. Before she knew it, a small sigh on contentment had escaped her throat too and she found herself looking over at the distant sight of Carn nan Gobhar.

She felt Jamie reach for her hand and thread his own with her fingers; turning to look at him, she saw his gaze reach the munro too.

“I’ll never forget the first time I took ye up there, Claire. Yer face, when ye saw the view...”

He was beaming now at her, his eyes alight with joy,

“…It meant so much tae me that ye saw the same beauty in it that I do.”

He sat up and turned to face her more. Already having set his cup on the floor, he lifted his free hand, brushing an errant curl off of her flushed face, his fingers stroking the skin by her ear and jaw.

“Ye understand now why this land is so important to me, aye? I meant it, when I said that I want ye tae be Lady Broch Turach along side me. It’ll take some thinkin’ but as I said tae ye last night, they need me. I see that now; they need me.”

He unlinked their hands and reached around to pull her close.

“Every since ye came, Claire, it’s like ye brought so much intae focus for me; allowed me tae see things I’d been missin’ that were goin’ on right under ma eye. Ye gave me hope, Claire, an’ I mean tae give it tae ma people too.” 

Leaning into him, she could smell the soil and work on him, and felt so connected to him and the landscape; the world, around them, in that moment. As she craned her head to kiss him, the smell and taste of treacle scones surrounded his mouth, helping her float away in a moment of deep satisfaction. 

As the kiss came to a slow and natural end, Jamie found his mind swept back to how things had changed since that wonderful, unexpected Hogmanay when she had turned up at his croft, as if sensing that he needed her. As he thought back, he knew now that he had been very close to going under for good; he really would not have lasted much longer had things not changed between them.

***** 

**_Flashback_ **

January mornings were always cold and crisp in Broch Murdha. For the rest of the world, New Year had already become a distant memory, what with the practicalities of life intruding and requiring urgent attention. The same could not be said of Jamie and Claire, who were both still basking in the warm memories that they had shared at Hogmanay. The pleasant hours they had experienced together, welcoming this new year in had brightened their spirits and the world around them felt full of it; the winter sun shone brighter; the thick grass looked greener and the air more sweet and fresh. 

Jamie had returned to coming around each morning to help Claire with her daily chores. They both had their own routine and went about them separately, but every so often they would exit the croft and stable in passing, and make eye contact; perhaps share a few words. Claire noticed that Jamie was still not a man to smile much, but the stern frown that used to regularly reside on his face was not often present now and even then not usually in response to her. That fact alone created a feeling of ease that she had not realised she had previously lost.

She had tended to a few patients that morning; a burn from the stew pot with Agnes Allen (a topical lotion of wine and myrrh Claire had from her travels came in handy); a tooth extraction for Rob MacLean (a ‘wee dram’ and he was all set to go); and Grannie Donaldson’s recurring winter cough (a little Thornapple for her pipe did the trick!) Jamie did not hide himself away but nor did he seek their attention. They, for the most part, were always a little surprised at seeing him there, but merely pursed their lips and kept quiet about him. 

As the morning wore on, Claire tidied up her make-shift surgery, bringing out a bowl of used water to discard and made her way over to the stream at the back of her home to rinse it. She soon re-entered the cottage and as she set the bowl down she heard a knock on her open door.

Reaching for a clean muslin to dry her hands, she turned to see Jamie standing rather nervously by the door, holding his jacket over his arm.

“Jamie, I’m just about to make a cup of tea, can I interest you in joining me?” She smiled, hopefully.

He bowed his head slightly at her words,

“Thank ye, ….Claire…” 

He so enjoyed the delightful privilege of saying her first name and did not think that the pleasant thrill he felt when using it would ever leave him.

“…but, I must be headin’ off now. I have a few jobs that need lookin’ at, an’ I’ve been puttin’ them off fir too long, truth be known.”

“I understand. Perhaps another time.”

Claire still always found the thought of him leaving discomforting. Despite feeling disappointed, she tried hard to ensure that it did not show on her face and she merely continued smiling.

“Claire, I, er….might ye be free tomorrow, tae come out fir a walk wie me?” Jamie spoke a little fast for fear that his nerve would falter. Even though she had already technically agreed to come out with him, that did not make the actual asking any easier on his nerves. He had spent the last few days worrying that she might have forgotten.

_Whit if she says no?_

_Whit if she’s changed her mind?_

His fears were unfounded though as a wide smile blossomed onto her face,

“Yes, Jamie, I would love to.”

Unable to hide his delight, his chest broadened ever so slightly as he heard her accept his invitation. Claire saw his eyes light up momentarily as he told her,

“I’ll come fir ye after lunch then, aye?”

She looked him straight in the eye, smiling and quietly reassured him, as if she had seen his worries,

“I am really looking forward to it. I will see you then…Jamie.”

Her direct gaze sent a jolt from his heart to his loins and hearing the tone with which she said his name, he found his throat suddenly feeling dry. He could only nod and quickly took his leave. 

*****

When Jamie awoke the next morning his nerves about his walk with Claire kicked in almost instantly. Despite going through his usual morning routine, searching for a little familiarity, when it came to sitting down to eat his porridge, he took one mouthful and pushed the bowl away, deciding that he could not stomach the rest.

_Christ! Whit the hell wis I thinkin’, settin’ this up! How can one wee lass create such a cursed fear in me?!_

_It’s only a walk, ye eejit! Calm doon!_

_*****_

Lunchtime seemed to take an age to arrive for Claire. She dithered around for the morning, never quite managing to get a job completed before her mind wandered off in contemplation of what the afternoon would have in store. She laid out a little food for herself, absent-mindedly, only to find that when she actually had to eat the damn stuff, it tasted like cardboard and refused to go down. She gave up after a few attempts, her mind teasing her.

_This is a bit exciting! I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous about a first date!_

_A first date? Who said it was a first date?! Shit! Is it a first date? Does Jamie think it is a first date?! Bloody brilliant! Now I’ve totally freaked myself out! How the hell am I going to look the man in the eye now?!_

_Who said you need to look him in the eye; he’s got plenty of other fine features worth looking at; those huge thighs, for a start; or those large biceps; mmm…or that fine ars…!_

_Give me strength! Will you cut it out?! I’m going to be dehydrated before he even gets here, for crying out loud! Oh God! What the hell am I going to wear?! And what the hell am I going to do with my hair?!_

_See! Told you it was a first date!_

_Oh, piss off!_

***** 

Jamie had spent a fretful hour full of indecision about, well, everything; what to wear; what not to wear; what to do with his hair; whether to have a wash first in the stream; what to take as a gift for her. The only thing he did not fret over was where he wanted to take her.

In the few, short months that Claire had become a resident of Broch Murdha, he knew that she had only really frequented the town and the woods behind their crofts. He had felt a deep longing grow in him to share the rest of his homeland with her, and he planned to begin with a short trek up one of his favourite munros, Carn nan Gobhar, which had glorious views of Glas Tulaichean, a high mountain that dominated the distant sky and was surrounded by deep valleys, with crystal-clear waters filling Loch Mullardoch in the gorge below.

Having succeeded in distracting himself with the calming influence of the natural beauty of his birthplace, he managed to complete his preparations and was soon ready to head off to collect her.

***** 

Jamie had decided on a small posy of lady’s smock as a gift. He loved the healer in Claire and it gave him no end of secret pleasure in nurturing and supporting that side of her. He had spied a few early snowdrops on his chores that morning and had picked a few to add to the pretty little arrangement, tying them all together with a little twine. This had proved to be no easy feat with his large, tense hands refusing to do his bidding at that moment.

He had decided on a quick wash in the stream; his usual clothes, albeit a clean shirt and breeks; and had taken the time to comb his hair before wearing it in his usual tied-back fashion. He now held the little bouquet in his right hand as his left continued to smooth back his hair, check his jacket and adjust his stock, all the while that he walked to pick Claire up. By the time his journey had ended and he found himself approaching her croft, he could feel his heart beating relentlessly against his ribcage in anticipation.

In the midst of a last sudden panic that he had tidied himself up too much and that she might look at him with surprise and mirth, Jamie quickly calmed on seeing her duck out of her croft to greet him. He was quite unaware that she had been listening for his footfall the last 10 minutes, as her stomach turned somersaults; silently overjoyed when she finally heard him arrive.

In the end, he need not have worried about looking too trussed up either, as it was clear that Claire had taken the time to look her best too. Over her green tartan outer-skirt, she wore a dark, mossy-green fitted jacket with a large grey fur trim around the sleeves and hood. Jamie had not seen her wear the jacket before but he hoped that he would again; she looked beautiful in it.

When she stepped out of the croft and swept her eyelashes up to meet his eye she was the absolute vision of heaven; her face framed as it was, quite perfectly Jamie thought, by the fur trim. Right then, he felt the unexpected thrum of Cupid’s firm arrow pierce him in the heart; his breath was stolen by the rose tint in her cheeks; the pink blush of her lips that had opened somewhat in a seemingly sweet joy at his arrival; and the warm glow that shone out from her honey-rich eyes at him. 

She came out to meet Jamie placing her bag over her left shoulder. She had packed a small first aid kit and a blanket. Having maneuvered her bag to where she wanted it, Claire reached up both hands to lift her hood back off her head and Jamie saw that she had taken the time to pin her hair up in a particularly pretty way; with a few loose tendrils kissing her neck. His heart fluttered at seeing the effort she had gone to and he felt exceptionally jealous of those curls, wishing for nothing more than to be the one skimming the soft skin of her neck. His attraction towards her was growing and becoming harder to keep in check. He found himself obsessing over every little detail of her being, whenever he found himself alone. 

Jamie had brought along a bag of his own having packed a small picnic for them. Claire may very well have eaten plentifully through the day for all he knew but his stomach had not allowed more than that first mouthful of porridge to pass his lips and so he had packed some food in the leather bag he had slung over his body.

Seeing him sporting the leather satchel over his large shoulders; his arms clasped behind his back, his dirk sheathed at his side, made Claire warm all over and she felt an almost electrical zing rush through her body at the sight of him. Simultaneously, she took in his glorious, unusually tidy, red curls; his strikingly strong cheeks; his smart well-fitted clothing and his astonishingly blue eyes. She tried so hard not to stare but if all she did for the whole afternoon was stand there and drink him in, uninterrupted, she knew she still would have felt unsatiated.

“…Claire, ye look bonny. Oh...er, here…”

He brought something around from his back; held out the sweetest little posy and as Claire looked closer, she could see that it was both a pretty and practical gift and the thoughtfulness of this token from him once again touched her.

“Thank you,… Jamie. It’s beautiful. What a lovely thought. Are you trying to get on my good side?”

_Dear God, stop flirting with the man like a dizzy, young floozie, will you! You are SO obvious!_

Jamie started at her flirtatious comment but quickly regained his composure, replying,

“It is my pleasure, Claire…I hear ye can never have too much Lady’s Smock.”

Claire laughed shyly at his reference to their previous conversation where she had quite significantly overshared about the medicinal qualities of Lady’s Smock on a woman’s monthlies. He was right, though; you never could have too much.

It was clear to Jamie that they both felt happy being together, but were still a little nervous and that lead to an awkward silence momentarily. Both feeling unsure of what exactly to say next, Jamie took the lead and gestured for Claire to walk down her track to the road with him. He took her off to the left as they reached it and headed away from the village.

He led them to a different trail that headed off into the hills and for a time, they had to walk single file through the gorse. Jamie confidently took the lead but he would turn back regularly to check that Claire was managing and still there. Each time, Claire would smile reassuringly.

What Jamie did not know was that every time he turned away, she rolled her eyes at how close she had come, once again, to being caught greedily indulging in the sight of his broad shoulders and solid arse as he moved so majestically in front of her. Each time he turned, she felt the heat creep up her cheeks as she once again was nearly rumbled.

In an attempt to change a subject Jamie had no idea needed changing, Claire inquired as to where they were heading.

“Well, lass, I ken ye havenae really seen much o’ the area other than the village an’ the woods. Bonny as they are, they dinnae really do us justice. Having persuaded ye tae stay, I wanted tae share a bit more o’ the land wie ye.”

At this point, the gorse bushes ended and they were able to walk side by side. Catching up with him, Claire responded,

“That sounds wonderful, Jamie. So where exactly are we going?”

He raised his head and nodded to the substantial munro in front of them,

“This here is called _Carn nan Gobhar_. It is my favourite o’ all the heights around Broch Murdha. Dinna fash, it willnae take us too long tae climb it an’ it has one o’ the finest views around - it looks down on tae Loch Mullardoch and it will give us good sight of Glas Tulaichean.”

She smiled and nodded at him. Emboldened, he continued,

“I would very much like tae share it wie ye, Claire. It is very special tae me.” 

_Just as you are._

Claire could not help but feel warm inside with his sweet words. As excited as she felt to finally have the time to explore the wider area of the place that she had decided to settle in; knowing that Jamie specifically wanted her to see this part of his homeland meant a great deal more to her.

As they continued to steadily climb the munro, Claire could see a change begin to come over Jamie and the way he held himself; he seemed to move lighter and walk a little taller; it was as if the land was somehow cleansing him from that which dragged him down; Claire felt a calming of her own soul, seeing him flourish in this way before her eyes. He seemed free to be his true self here and she saw a man of dignity and grandeur emerge in front of her; so different from the angry, woeful man she had seen him act at times, when they had first met.

The going was not hard as such, but Claire was so busy focusing on keeping up with Jamie that they forewent much conversation; both quietly happy and content to be together and out in nature. Nonetheless, Claire was pleased to finally reach the summit and catching her breath she looked back down the hill to see if she could spot their crofts or the village.

“Claire.”

She turned around at the delicious way that Jamie had said her name and saw him standing a good, few feet away from her. When he saw that he had her attention, he turned away to look at the view of Loch Mullardoch. Claire’s eyes followed his gaze and the vast expanse of water and land stopped her in her tracks.

“Oh my God. That’s…Jamie…it’s breathtaking.” She whispered in awe.

The loch far down below, reflected the powder blue sky; there were far-off clouds in the distance, but for now the sky was clear. The taller summits surrounding the loch were topped with snow and their sides had patches of earthy browns, deep vibrant greens, mixing in with the purple hews of distant heather. Standing proud amongst all of them she could see what had to be Glas Tulaichean. Claire marveled at its beauty; lost for words. 

Still looking out over the water far below, turned away from her, Jamie smiled; so happy that she felt the land speak to her heart too. This was the Highlands at their best, in his opinion.

Suddenly, Jamie’s stomach gave a loud growl and it’s neglect that day could no longer be ignored. Reaching for his satchel, Jamie looked around for the perfect spot to pitch them both. In parallel thought, Claire brought out the blanket that she packed and together they set themselves up in the shelter of a slight drop that gave a commanding view of the stunning vista.

Conversation came easy now, as they had found their rhythm again, just like in their shared moments at Hogmanay. Claire spotted a large stag on a distant hill, pointing it out to Jamie and then sat back in wonder, admiring its stoic stance. After standing completely still for a few minutes, it suddenly bolted, hearing an approaching danger and bounded away downhill. Claire followed it until her eyes found the distant clouds rolling nearer, some already shedding their load. It made for one of the most wonderful rainbows that she had ever seen. Inspired, she clearly recited,

“My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The Child is father of the Man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.”

Jamie listened attentively to her stirring voice, loving the musicality with which she recited her poem.

“That a bonnie verse, Claire. I havenae heard that before.”

Claire looked caught up in a private moment before realising what Jamie had said to her.

“Oh…no…well, you wouldn’t have. It’s by a poet I know from…well, just a poet I came across called William Wordsworth.” She let out a gentle closed-mouth laugh at the absurdity of her predicament; William Wordsworth, wasn’t even born yet! Sometimes, the realisation of just how much had changed for her these last 7 years struck her in unguarded moments like a bolt out of the blue. 

Despite all of her travels, there was something quite different about how this place made her feel, all of it; the munro, the croft, the village, the people. She sat in deep thought for a few minutes and then found herself giving voice to it.

“You know, I have travelled a lot in my lifetime; never really setting down roots. But here, well, I don't know…." She thought some more,

"Here, it feels different. I've been to ancient lands many times before but this place…it calls to me, Jamie.”

She looked over at him. He turned his head slightly to show her he was listening.

“Whether it is at the sweet little cottage that you gave me, or these breathtaking views; there is just something about this place that feels …right. Like a piece of the jigsaw finally falling into place for me. The return of a treasure I did not know that I had lost. Like I was always meant to end up here."

Jamie contemplated her words for a moment, his thoughts quickly leaping to what, just maybe, that might mean for _them_ going forward. Suddenly, his brow creased and he asked,

"Jigsaw? Whit is a jigsaw?"

Claire stumbled over her words; feeling caught out, she felt herself blushing. 

"Oh, um, it's a type of puzzle. It has a picture on it. I think they began on wood and then the wood has been cut into different shapes, you see, which you mix up and then fit back together.”

Jamie looked at her in admiration that she knew of such outlandish things. Claire felt herself get hotter still.

“ Anyway, I feel like I have a piece that has dropped back into place being here." Claire finished.

Jamie knew what she meant; he had always felt the ‘rightness’ of this place; this small piece of the Highlands surrounding Broch Murdha. Even after the hell that had found him when he returned here, leaving it would have been the death of him for sure. And so he had stayed and drew what small comfort he could from the little that was left; cherishing the slight easing of his breath when he found the time to visit his treasured Carn nan Gobhar. Knowing that Claire felt it too was a precious gift that he had not realised he longed for.

Wishing to hear more about her, Jamie observed,

“So, ye’ve travelled tae ancient lands have ye? Where have ye been?”

Claire had had many adventures in her youth, having had a very unusual upbringing and talking about the places that she had been always made her smile.

“Oh, I’ve been all over. Um…I’ve been to Egypt, Syria, Turkey, Greece, Italy, Morocco, Brazil, Peru, India…”

Jamie’s eyebrows raised in appreciation; impressed, as Claire reeled off so many wonderful places. She began to tell him tales of some of the sights she had seen.

“So, ye’ve actually seen the great pyramids? An’ the Sphynx? What aboot the Parthenon in Rome? I’ve been there, myself.”

She beamed at him with pride.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“Yes, I’ve seen the Great Pyramids. I’ve seen them all. I’ve even been to _the_ most incredible place called the Valley of the Kings. It houses many tombs of the ancient rulers of Egypt. Oh Jamie, it was incredible! The treasures we saw…” 

He listened, entranced, to her talk of these wonderful, mystical and ancient places, as they ate. He had thought himself well travelled before now but his experiences paled into insignificance when measured against Claire’s. It helped him see just how profound a statement she had made in feeling how special this new Highland home was to her.

The clouds move fast in the Highlands and Jamie soon reluctantly informed her that they had better start heading back, unless they wanted to get caught in a January rain shower. They carried on talking all the way back down the hill, once they had backed their picnic away. Their conversation took in more discussion about their travels, sharing stories of Paris, where they also discovered they had both visited; Rome too, but other than travel, neither one of them spoke a word about their personal history; their past.

Returning Claire to her croft mid-afternoon, Jamie bade her goodbye and said that he would be back the following morning.

“I had a wonderful time, Jamie. Thank you so much for asking me. I…er…I should very much like to take another walk with you, should you have the time.”

Jamie’s breath stuck in his throat and once again he was rendered mute by a wave of unexpected emotion; once again, all he could do was nod.

She turned away, happy that he had agreed and made her way back into her croft as the first drops of rain began to fall. 

*****

A few days after their walk, Claire had a visitor. Patients usually came up the track from the road but Claire had discovered this woman peeking around from the side of her croft. She had no idea how long the woman had been stood there; or indeed how she had got there, but when Claire had turned around after tidying up her morning’s work outside, she jumped at the sight of the small, unkempt woman. Taking a few moments to compose herself, only just managing not to swear out loud, Claire made eye contact with the timid woman and tried to entice her forward. She noticed her clutching her right arm to her body as if wounded.

“Hello there! Are you in need of assistance? Can I help you? Are you hurt?”

The woman drew back around the side of the croft again at the sudden attention, clearly nervous. Not before Claire noticed the rather bedraggled state of her clothes which hung, on her bones loosely – Claire knew only too well what poverty looked like these days. 

“Oh no, don’t go! I am so pleased you’ve come. I’d really like to help you if I may. Please stay.”

The woman hesitated but came forward no more. Claire felt at a loss; unsure of what else to say lest this frightened mouse of a woman run off.

Jamie exited the stable, wiping his hands on a cloth and saw Claire facing away from him, peering towards the corner of the croft. His eyes drifted over and he spied what he first thought was an old woman but on closer inspection, he recognised as a local lass he knew he had seen before. By the look on her face and the way Claire held herself, it was clear to Jamie that she was nervous, yet in need of Claire’s help. He slowly walked forward, finishing off his hands and moved his gaze to the visitor, desperately searching his memory for her name.

“Gid day tae ye…Mistress Anderson, isn’t it? Ye remember me, aye? Mr Fraser? Mistress Beauchamp, this here is Annie Anderson. Mistress Anderson, this is Mistress Claire Beauchamp. Ye’ll have kent aboot her fae the villagers, aye? She’s a fine healer. Ye did well tae come and find her, if yer ailin’.”

He made sure to speak gently and kept as bright a tone as he could. He moved off to the left side of Claire slowly carrying on walking until he was at a forty-five degree angle to Mistress Anderson – he knew a nervous creature when he saw one and how best to approach it.

“Ye ken Mistress Beauchamp, Mistress Anderson here wis a bonnie wee singer when she wis younger. Aye, I remember hearin’ her at the village get-taegethers when Father Scott would get her up tae sing a wee solo at Easter. Even as a young lassie, she had a voice that ye could get lost in; it wis like listenin’ tae the angels sing.”

Annie slowly shifted her gaze to Mr Fraser and a brief smile flashed onto her face. She had always liked Mr Fraser, despite what the others had said about him in recent years. She too remembered him from when she was younger; remembered him always smiling, laughing and slipping her and her friends little nuggets of delicious tablet from his sporran, when nobody was looking. She felt bad that she’d never spoken up for him after his trouble but she’d learnt now she was older when to stay quiet; she’d learnt her place…the hard way.

Claire was once again in awe of Jamie’s natural affinity with those in need. He made them feel so comforted and at ease. She was grateful to her friend for his help; they made a good team. She ventured,

“Mr Fraser, we were just going to have a cup of tea weren’t we? Mistress Anderson, we would be honoured if you would join us.”

Annie slowly moved her attention to the kind Sassenach healer, Mistress Beauchamp. She seemed kind and with Mr Fraser’s seal of approval, she felt able to nod a little. She took two tentative steps around the corner and then scuttled round in front of the bench and stood stock still, even now clutching her arm to her body. Claire recognised that she was waiting for her hostess to invite her to sit,

“Oh, please do take a seat.”

“Thank ye, Mistress.” Annie whispered, taking a seat on the edge of the bench.

“Please, call me Claire. May I call you Annie? No need for us to stand on ceremony.” Claire said in a conspiratorial tone, smiling. 

Annie nodded.

“Right, let’s get that cup of tea. Mr Fraser, would you mind awfully getting the kettle on so that I might help Annie with her arm. With your permission of course, Annie?”

Jamie smiled and nodded, heading into the croft when he was sure that Annie would not bolt. Annie watched him walk off, stunned that he would take such instruction from a woman, man that he was. Annie turned back to Claire, who was looking at her expectantly. She found the courage to hold her arm out.

“It hurts...Claire,” she said.

Claire gently took the appendage in her own hands and looked it over, trying not to make Annie wince in pain. It was quite clear to Claire that the injury had been inflicted by the joint being twisted. Judging by the loaded silence that followed her examination, and the fact that Annie was holding her breath, Claire was experienced enough to know an injury of abuse when she saw it; someone had twisted her arm so much that it had broken bones. She was going to be in some pain for a good while yet.

Whilst it was just the two of them Claire tended to the injury and soon enough Annie’s right arm was nestled in a splint. Seeing the line relax away between her eyebrows, Claire could see that the sling was already beginning to do its job.

Jamie soon came out to announce that the tea was ready and suggested that they take it inside due to the winter chill in the air. The three of them enjoyed a pleasant conversation with Claire feeling relieved to see Annie relax more; Jamie earnestly regaled her with fond memories of some of the more colourful characters that they had both know, in years gone by in Broch Murdha. He even managed to tease a few, small laughs out of her. Without the lines of worry around her face, Claire could see that Annie was younger than Claire had first thought and was really quite a pretty girl, the ill-fitting clothes and dirt notwithstanding. 

Very gradually, and with a subtilty that impressed Claire, Jamie brought the conversation around to Annie’s home life. He knew that she was married to a nasty bastard called John Anderson. He was a cruel man; would walk over you, stopping only to empty your pockets, afore helping you. Jamie suspected that he knew exactly how she had gotten injured. 

“Yer husband, Annie. How’s he doin’ these days? It’s been a fair while since I’ve seen him.”

Annie’s chin dropped against her chest and the crease in her furrowed brow returned. In a quiet voice she replied,

“Aye, Mr Fraser, he’s fine thank ye.”

“I’m glad tae hear it, Annie. Does ‘e still hang oot wie his brother and that other lad…whit wis his name?”

In a cold voice that brokered no warmth Annie helped him,

“Duncan Morris. Ye mean Duncan Morris. Aye, the three o’ them are still as thick as thieves.”

“John’s no settled down much since ye married him, then, no?”

Annie at first seemed lost in thought but a derisory snort escaping her mouth brought her up sharply and she looked mortified; scared even.

“No, Sir. He’s no settled down. Spends most o’ his time doon the tavern, which at least makes it quiet an’ calm at hame…at least until he comes back.”

A darkness settled in her gaze at that moment which chilled both Jamie & Claire alike. They swiftly caught one another’s eye, clearly sharing a joint understanding. Jamie tentatively asked her the burning question,

“Lass, did he hurt ye? Wis it him that twistit yer arm? Eh?”

Too far. She looked him straight in the eye, holding her chin up in the air and told him quite clearly,

“Now, Sir. I’ll thank ye no say such things o’ ma husband. I slipped an’ fell whilst I wis oot in the woods wis all. Thank ye both fir the tea an’ the doctorin’ but I’ll be on ma way noo.” She stood up and began to walk off. Stopping suddenly, she realised that she had not paid Claire for her services and turned back.

“Mistress Beauchamp, I’m sorry, I’ve no money…no anythin’ tae offer ye fir yer help. I’m a good seamstress though – maybe ye have some darnin’ or such like that I could dae fir ye instead?”

Claire quickly reassured her,

“Of course, that is absolutely fine, Annie. Truly. I am just glad I could help.”

She nodded at Claire and curtsied them both as she left, which left Claire perplexed.

They both watched her head down the track, still holding her arm and then off along the road back to the village. When she was out of sight, Claire turned to Jamie and said,

“Thank you, Jamie. You were amazing with her. I didn’t think I was going to be able to get near her. Now tell me who the hell this bastard, John Anderson, is!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loch Mullardoch, Glas Tulaichean & Carn Nan Ghobar are all real places. Can you see them all together as described – no idea!  
> We’re also going to pretend that Loch Mullardoch wasn’t created as a reservoir in 1950’s AND that the rolling clouds don’t roll too fast in Scotland (which is SO not true – they roll VERY fast; as I discovered when climbing Ben Lomond a few years ago in prep for my Kilimanjaro climb. Am I happy beyond measure though that the first munro that I bagged is the same munro that a certain Mr Heughan bagged first too – you betcha! #wetakeourkickswherewecan)
> 
> I really hope you like this chapter and can forgive me for daily life as Mum & school pastoral support manager, getting in the way...


	20. The Fiend, The Martyr and The Saviour - Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We stay completely in flashback for this chapter, continuing a short time after Annie Anderson came for help. 
> 
> Claire learns more of the story between Jamie and Tom and an unwelcome visitor appears at Claire's croft.

**_Flashback continued…._ **

****

Jamie and Claire’s daily lives became more and more entwined with one another’s as the days went past and they soon found themselves falling into a weekly pattern of taking a fine walk up Carn nan Gobhar of an afternoon. They continued to speak easily with one another and after a particularly humorous afternoon whereby Jamie regaled much about some of the more interesting residents of Broch Murdha, Claire found herself bravely asking him about a particular resident, of whom they had not spoken of since Hogmanay.

“Jamie…do you mind if I ask you about something, well, someone? Do you promise not to get cross with me?” 

They sat in the same spot they had shared the first time that they had climbed the munro; Jamie sat with his knees bent, his forearms resting on them, with his right hand clasped in his left. Claire saw the tension he suddenly felt at her words evident in the way he squeezed his hands, but she saw that he went to great effort to ensure that the tone he replied in did not hold the same unease.

“Aye, Claire. Ask away.” 

Inside, Jamie’s heart and mind began to race; there were so many dangerous questions she could ask. How would he react if she hit a nerve? He really could not be sure.

Claire clutched her own knees into her chest and rocked backwards a little. Reaching her right hand absent-mindedly to play with a blade of grass between them both, she hesitantly asked,

“Can I ask you about…Tom Christie?”

If it was possible, Jamie found himself to be both relieved and enraged at the same time. Relieved that she had not asked him about himself or his own story; enraged that that bastard Christie was now here in their thoughts; at this sacred place that he had brought her to. Jamie looked around his great glen to steady his nerves and quiet his tongue before he told her resignedly,

“Aye. Whit dae ye want tae know?”

Claire quietly let out the breath she had inadvertently been holding.

_Thank God he did not bolt!_

“Well…he told me some rather horrific things about his wife and daughter and…well…I couldn’t help but notice that you and he…that is…you don’t seem to…. I mean, at the tavern you both….and…and at Hogmanay…”

She halted and sighed.

_He finally lets me ask and I end up making a complete mess of it!_

“What was it that I saw between the two of you, Jamie? I know that there was something. Why is it that you do not get along?”

She sat still waiting anxiously for his response.

Jamie had sat and watched her fumble her words, with a little mirth.

“Whit? Aside fae ‘im bein’ a Protestant ye mean? An’ walkin’ around like he’s got a stick stuck up his arse that’s just started tae pinch, aye?!”

Claire let out a rather unladylike snort of laughter and then blushed at the noise, holding her hand up to her mouth in shock. It was such a dry, astute, and _accurate_ observation and it had caught her quite unaware; she had not been able to describe it herself before now, but that was _exactly_ what Mr Christie looked like on occasions. 

If Christie were not a subject that irritated Jamie beyond measure, he would have had more inclination to find her embarrassment at the noise she had made endearing. As it was, it was still far too soon after that bastard had laid hands on Claire. Jamie still saw the memory of it, and its initial fallout for him, right at the front of his mind’s eye too often for him to be able to see the humour in it yet. Still, he would answer her questions.

Claire glanced at Jamie, still embarrassed that she had reacted in such a way.

“Yes, other than that! What is his story? He told me that his wife died in a fire and that the daughter wasn’t his, but that she died too.”

Leaning forward and almost whispering, she told him,

“Jamie, he said that he was glad that they were gone! That she was a witch and that her daughter was too. Is that true? Is that what everyone thought? How could he be so cold, Jamie? How could he be _glad_ that they had died? And in a fire!”

Claire was sat a little behind Jamie, to his left and he peered back at her, over his shoulder, trying to decide how much to tell her.

“He may well have telt ye that he's no mournin' his lassies now, but trust me Claire, I wis there, an’ the man wis completely undone by it.”

Claire listened to Jamie’s solemn words earnestly. He continued,

“If he wisnae such a proud bastard and a miserable old sod tae boot, I'd be inclined tae feel sorry fir him!" 

“What happened to them Jamie?”

She wanted to know; wanted to understand Tom better and the things that he had said to her that had shocked her so. Jamie moved himself back a little to lean on the side of the little grassy alcove that they were situated in, readying himself for a tale. He knew he could trust her and so he told her the truth.

“Aye, well, it wis aboot…twelve year ago now. Tom wis away fir a few days an’ that left his wife, Mona, an’ their two bairns at home. Alone. That wis never a good thing! There wis always one stramash or another tae deal wie, especially when Tom wisnae there. He mentioned Malva, the lassie? Well, there wis also Alan, his son. He wis older than Malva. I think she wis aboot five or six an’ Alan wis aboot eleven at the time.”

Claire nodded in rapture.

“Mona Christie wis a peculiar woman. Ye didnae feel safe aroond her, ye ken? Ye always felt that ye had tae watch yersel’. Some women have a strong energy aboot them, Claire. Sometimes, it leaves ye feelin’ unnerved, like getting’ caught in a web and other times ye feel uplifted; one smile an’ ye feel like yer flyin’ high up intae the clouds…”

Jamie stopped for a moment, realising just what he had said, and Claire noticed his ears getting red. Unable to meet her eye for the moment, he carried on,

“…but either way, it can be unsettling. I am a grown man, Claire, I’ve strength o’ body an’ somewhat o’ mind but I dinnae mind sayin’ that that woman scared me!”

“I bumped intae her once just ootside the village. She had wee Malva wie her too. I never heard the wee lassie speak; she wid just stare at ye… An’ as fir Mona, well, I felt like her mind was fillin’ itsel’ wie salacious thoughts every moment we stood there; the way she looked me up an’ doon, no carin’ that she had her we girl wie her. Scared the shit oot o’ me, I dinnae mind tellin’ ye. Thought she was gonna eat me alive!”

He turned his head back to Claire at that point and she smiled shyly.

“There were rumours an’ such like aboot her. An’ aye, I mind there wis talk that wee Malva wisnae Tom’s lassie at all, but wis the result o’ a secret tryst wie his late brother. There were stories o’ her bein’ seen naked under a full moon; or someone dyin’ efter they’d crossed her; accusations o’ her seducin’ the men folk, ye ken. Christ, Tom wis beside himself. I think that was why he needed tae take a break fae it all occasionally an’ spend some time elsewhere.”

“Anyway, one night, there was a commotion and it wis durin’ one o’ Tom’s trips away. There had been scenes between Mona an’ some o’ the other women in the area. I wiz called oot ma bed by some o’ the lads fae the village an’, well, by the time I got tae their hoose, the blaze had taken hold. I managed to get in though, an’ the first one I came tae was Alan, unconscious on the floor, so I picked him up an’ carried him oot. The poor lad was in such shock, he never spoke fer days efter it. Then, the lintel inside came doon before I could get back in an’ so we scrabbled tae the windae, screamin’ at Mona tae open it, so we could get them both oot.”

“Oh, Jamie!” Claire whispered.

Jamie seemed lost in the dreadful memory; his eyes unblinking as he relived the horror of it.

“No matter how loud we banged on the windaes an’ shouted at her tae let us save her daughter, at least, she jist ignored us. I’ll never forget hearin’ Mona Christie laughin’ hysterically, seein’ her dancin’ aboot the room, as the fire surroonded her. Eventually, the manic laughter stopped though an’ was replaced by her screams. Christ, I can still hear it noo!”

He shivered involuntarily, as if someone had just walked over his grave.

Claire was horrified, her hand clutching at her mouth, lest she make a noise, but she had to know and so she quietly asked him,

“What about Malva? Did you see her?”

Jamie slowly turned his head around to look at her; held her eye for a second or two, and then, just as slowly, sought the comfort of his cherished view of Loch Mullardoch for a moment. Gazing down at his hands, he searched for the courage to speak the words. Quietly, he confided in her,

“I’m goin’ tae tell ye something I’ve no told another livin’ soul, Claire. No since it happened.”

He looked back at her and held her eye. The air was palpable, heavy with the impending revelation.

“I saw Malva, in that hoose, wie her ma…but I think she wis already deed.”

Jamie’s voice had dropped to a deep tone when voice his suspicions. Claire felt an icy, cold hand reach out and suddenly grab hold of her heart, squeezing it tight.

“She wis dead before the fire started. I’m sure of it. Like you Claire, I’ve seen ma fair share o’ violence, ye ken? I ken whit a slit throat looks like an’ that wee girl had a ribbon o’ red across her bonnie wee neck, as I looked intae the window, beggin’ her ma tae pass her oot.”

He sighed and said a prayer in his head for the dead family as he looked to the sky and crossed himself.

“I dinnae ken who started the fire. Maybe it was a man she’d seduced; maybe it wis a woman she’d crossed; maybe it wis Mona hersel’. Maybe she meant to take the three o’ them away fae Tom; leave him widowed and childless. I dinnae ken who kilt the wee lassie either; if it wis Mona or even Alan. I dinnae ken, but witch or no, she an’ her wee lassie didnae deserve tae die the way that they did.”

“Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, Jamie!” she slowly pronounced.

“Aye, well, I took Alan back tae…ma home. Tended tae him, but for the 3 days before his father returned, that wee lad never spoke a word. Well, suddenly Tom comes crashin’ intae ma home, lookin’ fir his boy. He had tears streamin’ doon his face; wis absolutely beside himself. He grabbed his boy intae his arms an’ fell tae the floor, holdin’ him. He sat there rockin’; and cryin’; and prayin’; an’ all the while the wee laddie sat their takin’ it, but no seekin’ the comfort o’ his Da at all; just lay in his arms like a doll.”

Claire found herself struggling to swallow, her throat had become so dry. Shaking her head as she reached for a drink from the flask of water she had brought, she spoke. 

“How awful for them?! Christ, this can be such a cruel time! But, why exactly has that caused issue between the two of you? You saved his son. Was he just too much of a man to let you see him cry about it?”

Jamie chuckled and then proceeded to shake his head,

“No, lass, that wisnae it. Aye, he wis distant from me but he aie nodded his heed when we passed, even if he couldnae bring himsel’ tae talk tae me. Na, it wis whit happened aboot 4 years _after_ , that really caused the problem.”

Claire looked back up in surprise.

“Ye see, I came across Tom when he wis…he wis doon by the stream in the woods behind our crofts, aye? He wis just starin’ oot intae the water. His hair wis loose an’ he wis fair disheveled. I didnae plan on greetin’ him but before I knew it, he’d seen me an’ he just stood there lookin’ at me, except…no really lookin’ at me; more lookin’ _through_ me. We just stood there facin’ one another when suddenly his stare met my eye; cut me right where I stood an’…”

Jamie hesitated a moment, swallowing before he continued,

“…he muttered tae me… “Whit it is tae lose a wife an’ child…””

Claire knew nothing of Jamie’s past, but she could not help but wondered at the choice of phrase that Tom had chosen and who he had chosen to say it to. 

“I really didnae ken whit tae say tae him. There are nae words o’ comfort fir a widowed faither. Then, just as suddenly as he had turned tae see me, his face just crumbled wie sorrow an’ tears, an’ he slowly collapsed tae the floor, his shoulders heaving o’er an’ o’er. It wis a heartbreakin’ sight, Claire. In that moment, he came completely an’ utter undone. I rushed over tae him an’ that’s when I could smell the drink on him. He wis pissed aff ‘is heed. No a very Protestant state tae be in! If anyone had seen him like that, he would have been disgraced, ye ken?”

Claire nodded.

“I lifted him up an’ he was barely able tae stand. Tried talkin’ tae ‘im but he was broken, clingin’ on tae me like his life depended on it, still greetin’ his eyes oot; his face burrowed intae ma shoulder and neck.”

Claire was shocked to hear that the exceptionally formal and straight-laced Mr Christie should be in such a state.

“What did you do with him?” She asked. 

“The only thing I _could_ dae wie him; I took him home tae ma croft. I couldnae let anyone see him in that state. Thankfully, no one did an’ I managed tae get him intae the hoose an’ settled on ma bed. He wis whimperin’ an’ mumblin’ Mona’s name. I thought he had settled an’ then he called oot, “Ma wee lassie! Malva! I’m sorry, lass! I’m sorry!” an’ was wailin’, an’ curlin’ himself up intae a ball on the cot. Christ, Claire, it was an awfy, pitiful sight tae see. I went over an’ put my hand on his shoulder tae, I dinnae ken, tae show him that I wis there, I suppose.”

Jamie’s voice became a little gruff, his mind’s eye holding him a long way back.

“I didnae want him tae think that he wis alone, aye? No one should be alone when they’re feelin’ like that.”

Many unspoken words hung in the air, at that moment.

After a short hesitation, Jamie continued,

“Well, he turned an’ clung on tae my hand an’ wept, an’ sobbed, callin’ oot fir his wife an’ his wee lassie until, eventually, he exhausted himself oot an’ he fell asleep.” 

Tears stung Claire’s eyes as she listened to Jamie explain just how bereft Tom had really been. Hearing how he had comforted Tom made Claire ache for Jamie even more and feeling unable to reach out to him, she could only hug her legs in tighter to her body. 

“I spent the night on the chair by the fire, keepin’ watch o’er him.”

Jamie again hesitated before quietly speaking his next thought, unable in that moment to meet Claire’s eye,

“…I’ve often wondered if he wis plannin’ on doin’ away wie himsel’ that night, ye ken? He had a certain look in his eye that I recognised when I came upon ‘im. So…I watched o’er ‘im.”

Claire’s tears fell at hearing this. She knew in her heart that Jamie was disclosing secrets that he had never shared with anyone before; no one knew what he had done for Tom and to say that she felt moved by both his unknown actions and his trust in her; his honesty, was a huge understatement. Neither was it lost on her that there could only have been one reason that he would recognise a suicidal man in front of him; Claire wondered what sadness lay in Jamie’s past that would have made him so attuned to Tom’s anguish.

“Jamie.” She softly whispered in awe.

Jamie looked back out over the glorious view, taking strength from it again before he continued,

“Aye, well, I must have fallen asleep at some point because when I woke up, it wis mornin’ an’ Tom wis nowhere tae be seen. But fae that moment on, every time he saw me, well, ye’ve seen how it is. Witches or no, lass, Tom wis crushed by their loss an’ he's never forgiven me fir witnessin’ the truth o’ it.”

“Christ, Jamie! When I think about the things he said about you at Christmas, to me. I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense. Why would he say that you weren’t trustworthy; why did he say I needed to be careful of you?”

Finding that she was suddenly veering a little too close for comfort to things he did not wish to discuss, he delicately closed the conversation down by making light of it,

“Noo _that_ is a story fir another day. Come on, lass! Let’s get ye hame afore the light goes. We need tae say hello tae that friend o’ yours, Clarence, or he’ll no be happy wie us.”

Sensing that she had reached Jamie’s limit for opening up today, she let him deflect the question and gathered her things up. They walked down the hill and back to her home silently, both in quiet contemplation of the story they had shared.

*****

A few weeks later, Claire was just finishing another very productive day in her little surgery. Word had continued to spread about the Sassenach healer and her clientele had become rich and varied. As the winter sun was beginning to fade over the distant trees, Claire noticed a rather unkempt man slowly heading her way. This in and of itself was not unusual, but she did not like the gait of the man and her gut told her that he was trouble.

His blond hair was greasy and dirty, most of it having escaped its cue. His clothes were filthy and very worn; they hung off pathetically off his sinewy body. This alone was not an unusual sight, but coupled with his cold, penetrating eyes, which were of a strong, vivid blue that on any softer face would have been thought handsome, she knew she was right about her summation of him. The smell emanating from him though quickly put paid to such thoughts of striking blue eyes and Claire was hit with the stench before he reached her. All in all, his presence left her tense and on edge. He sauntered up the path towards her, happily taking his time before he stopped some distance away,

“So…ye’ll be the _Sassenach_ healer then?”

He looked her greedily up and down, letting his gaze feast on her cleavage with not a trace of restraint; Claire recognised a man who took what he wanted, when he wanted. She knew his type only too well; she would be ready for him. He would not be the first man to try his luck with a solitary woman. Lifting her chin defiantly, she answered,

“I am. Are you in need of help, Mr…?”

The man chuckled with all the slime of an oil slick; the kind that was hard to clean off no matter how you tried, and met her eye steadily,

“Anderson.”

“Mr Anderson. I have just shut up shop but if you are ailing, I will take a look.”

“Na, yer awright, Mistress. Ye ken, ye tended tae ma wife Annie, a few weeks ago.”

_So, this is the bastard John Anderson who beats his wife!_

Her distain for him was impossible to hide and after pursing her lips she replied, 

“Yes, that’s right. How is her arm? I hope she has been able to rest it. That was a nasty injury she had.”

Claire held his gaze solidly, unspoken words passing between them, and waited for him to respond.

“…Wit can I say, my Annie’s a hard-workin’ lass an’ likes tae keep hersel’ busy.”

Claire held Anderson’s gaze and he looked away first, under the guise of looking around her homestead.

“I see yer makin’ yersel’ quite at hame here.” 

Keen to end the conversation, Claire moved to tidy her last few tools away.

“Is there anything I can actually help you with Mr Anderson? Only I’m rather busy and have matters to attend to.”

Completely ignoring her question, he continued to look around and slowly brought his unwelcome gaze back to her. In a quiet and cold voice, he commented,

“Yer a fair way oot o’ the village here. I’d have thought it wis no very safe fir a woman like you tae be on her ain. Anythin’ could happen.”

Claire hated these kinds of men and in the last seven years, particularly, she had met her fair share of them. She simply did not have it in her to act timidly though and before she knew it, she was asserting herself rather confidently,

“Are you threatening me, Mr Anderson?”

He chuckled and gave her a snide grin.

“Of course, no…Mistress. I wis just…”

“Yes, well I think we’re done here then. I’ll ask you to leave, Mr Anderson. Now.”

Furious that this _interfering_ _bitch_ dared to talk to him that way, he took a step towards her and made to answer her back. Claire stood her ground and gave not an inch, the adrenalin soon rushing through her body. Ready to deal with him as necessary, she flinched in shock when a strong, deep voice came from the gap between the croft and the stable,

“Mistress Beauchamp told ye she wis done wie ye, Anderson. She’s asked ye tae leave. I suggest ye do so. Now.”

Anderson flew around at the unexpected interruption, momentarily surprised; taking a few frightened steps back. Jamie gave off the strong presence of a man expecting his word to be followed without question and seemed to fill the area they stood in. When Anderson realised that it was Fraser who had spoken though, the sneer returned to his face, albeit not quite as broad.

“Makes sense; her being oot here wie you. Another pest no wanted in Broch Murdha. She’s been stickin’ her nose intae business that’s wisnae hers!”

Jamie stared the weasel down, his nostrils flared, his fists clenched shut at his sides, his jaw gritted in anger and the look of the devil in his eye. It took either a very brave _or_ a very stupid man, to face Jamie in angry, warrior mode, Claire thought. She had never seen him so enraged…and _that_ was saying something. 

“Leave. Now.” Jamie ordered with a growl.

Anderson backed away, looked at Claire and then back at Jamie. When he was a safe distance away, he hollered back,

“Cùm do ghalla air leash nas teann bho seo a-mach, Friseal!” _Keep yer bitch on a tighter leash fae now on, Fraser!_

Jamie saw red at the foul words Anderson had uttered about Claire and made to run after him. His explosive reaction shocked Claire, given that she did not understand Anderson’s taunt, and she yelled at Jamie in concern, desperate to stop him taking chase,

“Jamie!” 

Anderson ran off, laughing. Like all bullies though, there was no doubt that he did so with a slight glint of fear in his eyes, having been faced with someone he deemed a more than capable opponent. He knew he had crossed a line.

Both Jamie and Claire stood rooted now to their respective spots, heaving their breath in and out, as the adrenalin surged through their veins. Now that the danger had passed, Claire felt the panic begin to rise in her, her thoughts running a mile a minute. She had met her fare share of brutes like Anderson on her travels but still, it had been some time since her last run-in and not since…

_I am not thinking of that! Cut it the hell out!_

_You know you are not ok. You know this is the first time since…_

_Just shut the fuck up! I am trying to focus on breathing here and not totally bloody losing it!_

_You are going to have to tell him sometime what happened…._

_Like hell I d…_

“Claire, are ye alright, lass?”

Worried at the state she seemed in; her body shaking, her clammy skin pale as snow, her eyes squeezed shut, mumbling to herself, Jamie spoke softly and with great concern.

Whilst Claire had been focusing on controlling her rising panic attack, Jamie had taken steps towards her and opening her eyes, his sudden and unexpected proximity to her was just too much. Before she knew what she was doing she had pulled away from him in fear, bumping into the table she had set up outside, before grabbing hold of it. He saw her terror and immediately stepped back to give her space. Pretending that he had not noticed her withdrawal and ignoring the painful disappointment that her fear of him caused him, he tried to lessen the tension,

“Aye, well, that wis John Anderson. As ye can see he’s a wee piece o’ shit. Christ knows whit Annie Anderson ever saw in him tae marry him. Dinnae gie him another thought, lass. He’s no worth it.”

Claire was mortified.

Mortified at her returning internal panic.

Mortified that her fear had shown itself and that she had drawn away from Jamie with such terror when he had inadvertently scared her.

But mostly, mortified that Jamie had _seen_ her pull away and that it had clearly caused him upset. Fast as he was at putting up his mask, she was getting to know how to read him better and this time he had not been fast enough. She had hurt him by pulling away and was now cursing herself that he may have misunderstood its cause. Despite things being much better recently between them, she still worried that he would leave her again. The thought of him believing that she did not want him near her, left her whole body aching in sorrow. Then came anger.

_All because of that wife-beating…_

“…fucking bastard!” 

Despite being used to Claire’s unusually rude mouth, Jamie jumped in shock at the sudden foul exclamation. Confused, he asked,

“Who? …Me?”

Trying to calm herself after her sudden outburst, Claire’s shoulders slumped in near defeat,

“Bloody hell, Jamie! No, not you! Fff-ucking Anderson!”

She flicked her hand in the direction that Anderson had fled.

“Thank Christ fir that! I thought it wis me ye meant! Ye scared the shit oot o’ me!”

He laughed shyly trying to catch her eye to see if he had made her smile.

Meeting his eye nervously, she could not help but chuckle too.

_Thank God! We’re good. He understands. Despite not knowing, he understands._

With the panic and adrenalin now beginning to ebb, Claire placed her hands solidly on her hips, took a few more deep breaths and then met Jamie’s eye. Nodding her head towards her croft, her mask of confidence sliding back into place; even as her voice still shook, she told him, 

“Come on, we’ve earned ourselves a dram. Come and sit by the fire with me.” 

Whilst Jamie was still a little confused and pained at her initial reaction to him speaking to her, he was reassured that the run-in with Anderson had not had any lasting damage. Nonetheless though, he swore to himself that he would keep an even closer eye on her from now on just in case the bastard reared his head again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up with another chapter of over 9000 words so have chopped it into 2! 
> 
> We're planting the last few moves before we find out just what caused the brawl resulting in Jamie's shirt being ripped off! 
> 
> Part II of The Fiend, The Martyr & The Saviour is already written and is coming in at about 4000 words so no long wait this time! 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for following my first foray into creative writing. It's a fascinating and fun learning curve! You support and encouragement means so much xx


	21. The Fiend, The Martyr and The Saviour - Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We stay in flashback for the entire chapter. It carries on a short time after the incident with Anderson. Claire visits a certain Mr Christie; finds herself unexpectedly out in the village after dark and has an interaction with Jamie that moves them closer still to one another. 
> 
> ****Trigger warning **** male violence towards a woman ****
> 
> Also, if I've nailed the writing, things heat up a little between our unrequited pair....😍🔥🔥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously....
> 
> "Witches or no, lass, Tom wis crushed by their loss an’ he's never forgiven me fir witnessin’ the truth o’ it.”
> 
> *****
> 
> “Yer a fair way oot o’ the village here. I’d have thought it wis no very safe fir a woman like you tae be on her ain. Anythin’ could happen.”
> 
> Claire hated these kinds of men and in the last seven years, particularly, she had met her fair share of them. She simply did not have it in her to act timidly though and before she knew it, she was asserting herself rather confidently,  
> “Are you threatening me, Mr Anderson?”  
> He chuckled and gave her a snide grin.  
> “Of course, no…Mistress. I wis just…”  
> “Yes, well I think we’re done here then. I’ll ask you to leave, Mr Anderson. Now.”

****

**_Flashback continued…_ **

****

Ever since Jamie had told her Tom Christie’s story, Claire had been mulling it over and had finally come to a decision. She wanted to see Tom. Understanding the truth of his situation, she had things that she wanted to say to him after their last meeting; having finally got them clear in her head, it was time to face him.

And so that was why, one brisk Friday afternoon, Claire found herself heading into the village, with an air of determination, searching for him. She knew that he was the schoolmaster for the village, her subtle enquiries during her village surgery having garnered that information. She had also discovered where the schoolhouse was situated and before long, she found herself outside the door, just after school had finished for the day.

Taking a moment to decide quite how to proceed, she saw him coming out of the single-roomed building, looking his usual smart and well-kept self; now that she knew his secrets, she could see that he was a man very used to hiding his inner turmoil from the world. Tom locked the door and descended the steps. As he turned to make his way next door to his cottage, he saw her standing a short distance away and halted at her unexpected appearance. Claire could see that he was not happy to see her; she had expected as much, but still, she held his eye and greeted him softly.

“Hello, Mr Christie.” 

Struggling to control his fury at seeing her, he looked away and carried on walking towards his cottage, his head tucked low as if sheltering himself from a storm. His deep-rooted manners and over-whelming curiosity precluded him from completely ignoring her though and he responded with a curt,

“Mistress Beauchamp.”

Claire followed him to his cottage as he opened the door and disappeared inside. She noticed that he had rather subtly left it open and so she took this as an invite to step inside. Once indoors, she took a few steps before standing still and then…she simply watched him. Tom busied himself doing everything and nothing in his tidy sparse home, very clearly perturbed at her sudden and unexpected appearance. After a few minutes of silence, he could take the tension no more and he questioned her cold and angry,

“Why have ye come? Tae mock me? Tae chide me? Ye made yer feelin's perfectly clear tae me…so why come?"

The shy and concerned look that he quickly stole from her betrayed the truth though; despite his sullen tone, he was desperate for answers from her.

Claire stayed silent, her gaze kind, but unfaltering. It caught Tom’s eye and he did a double take, unsure that he was genuinely seeing such gentleness from her, unaccustomed to it as he was. Finally, he broke their gaze, stopped his distracting tasks, and dropped down into a chair at the table, dejected and broken; his head dropping to his chest. He suddenly felt as if no time had passed at all since his regrettable actions and the sting of her slap on his cheek smarted as if newly flung; the shame once again engulfing him.

Claire took a few steps closer, until she was level with his side of the table. Jamie’s story about Tom had softened her view of him and she had come to see his actions at Hogmanay in a different light because of it. She looked down, seeing the sorrow practically bleeding from him and sought to comfort him with soothing words. Once she started, she could not seem to stop,

“I wanted to make sure that you were alright. I wanted to explain. You see, you rather touched a nerve, I'm afraid, when you spoke to me so unexpectedly in French, saying what you said and all I could think of in that moment was of escape…and so I told you that I was planning on leaving. You were so honest with me about your feelings of…”

Looking down, she hesitated,

“…affection towards me and I am sorry to say that I did not repay you with the same consideration."

Such words of kindness and regret were not what he had expected her to express; life had regularly shown itself to be harsh and unkind, and he found himself looking up at her with surprise bright in his grey eyes. Cautiously returning his gaze, and seeing that she had his full attention, Claire continued with her words of reparation.

"I lied because I could not go the tavern with you. I will not patronize you Mr Christie; I respect you too much for that. The truth is that I did not _want_ to go. I did not want to go to the _tavern_ and…”

Her voice softened further to lessen the honest blow,

“…I did not wish to go with _you_. If I had only told you the truth then, well, perhaps you would not have felt the panicked need to kiss me. You were not the only one to blame for what happened that day and I apologise for my part in how the situation transpired. I know that I caused you pain."

Tom sat slowly shaking his head. He could easily have accepted her attempt at portioning some of the blame at her own feet, but regardless of her confession, it really was quite simple; he had behaved like a beast towards her and the shame was devouring him. He dropped his head again and stared at something unknown and unseen. Shakily, he replied,

"Mistress Beauchamp, I am humbled by yer thoughtful words, but…I lay my hands upon ye uninvited an’ fir that I will never forgive maself. I cannae express tae ye the shame that I feel aboot ma actions an’ how I dishonored ye. I…”

He believed that he had lost any right to be near her and whilst his heart broke anew thinking on it, he was determined to respect her now in the cold light of reason, as he should have done at the time. Mournfully, he continued,

“…I will no disrespect ye again in such a manner, I can assure ye, an’ I will keep ma distance from ye in the future. In fact, I think it wid be best if I stayed away fae ye completely."

Claire rolled her eyes at witnessing the martyrdom of Tom Christie. 

_These damn stoic Scotsman will be the death of me, one day!_

Taking the last few steps towards him, she tentatively reached out her hand and squeezed his shoulder,

"Mr Christie…Tom…”

The use of his first name and the touch of her hand shocked him and he slowly met her gaze once more, deeply moved by this continued tenderness that she was showing him. With care and consideration, she resumed,

“…you came and gave me a beautiful and thoughtful gift that you had taken the time to craft for me, with your own hand. I was truly touched by your kindness, even if it did take me unawares. You took a risk and shared your feelings of affection towards me, something that I know was not an easy thing for you to do and I am _so_ sorry that my deception about leaving made you feel that you had to take such drastic action in that moment.”

Softly, she continued,

“Tom, I won't lie to you now. As I say, I do not hold feelings of affection towards you in the same way that you appear to of me, but I _am_ touched that you should hold me with such high regard. It is no small thing to me, and I understand that it is no small thing to you either. I know what it is to experience strong feelings so powerful that you feel you must act on them. I must reassure you though - I hold no grudge against you, Tom, for what happened."

Seeing his grief-stricken face holding her eye, she could not help but move her hand to cup the side of his face. His eyes momentarily closed as he savoured the rare, gentle, feminine touch on his cheek and his beard, before he looked back up at her, willing her to continue, which she did,

"Your mistake was not in sharing what was in your heart; it was simply that you were doing so with someone who did not feel the same way. I don’t want this harden your heart, Tom. Please.”

The relief that he felt became evident as his tense shoulders relaxed and as he processed her beautiful words, he let out a shaky breath. The bottom lip of this proud Scotsman quivered for the briefest of moments, as he pursed his lips. As tears filled his eyes, he pressed them shut and nestled his face into her hand so that his lips touched her palm, desperate to prolong the warmth she was showing him for just a while longer; drawn desperately into her magnetic orbit. 

“You deserve happiness and I really do hope that you find it, Tom. I don’t want you to stay away from me. You have shown me great kindness and I really do hope that we can be friends."

The complex look of pained sadness, bittersweet joy and blessed relief on Tom’s face made Claire’s eyes water, in sync with his. However, watching him then slowly descend forward and rest his forehead on her hip, seeking what he knew, he _knew_ , could only be a one-time, short-term comfort, made her raise her face to the ceiling in a vain attempt to hold back the deluge of tears threatening to fall.

The knowledge that this was likely a rare occurrence for him in recent years, after everything that he had been through, made the tears fall harder. Thinking of all the pain and devastation that he must have endured, all she could bring herself to do, as the emotions threatened to engulf her, was move her hand to rest on the upper back of this sad, misguided man, in quiet, warm solace. One secret tortured soul offering solace to another. 

***** 

One of the joys of being a healer was the welcoming of new life into the world and Claire soon found herself experiencing its delights when assisting in the delivery of her first Broch Murdha baby; a beautiful, dark-haired baby girl called Ealasaid MacGowan born to an exhausted but besotted first-time mother Eileen, and a terrified but smitten father, Andrew. The labour had been fairly quick and thankfully, the delivery was not complicated. It was always a dicey game, giving birth in the eighteenth century, Claire knew, and being able to assist with another successful event was comfort beyond measure for her.

After waving her goodbyes to the new parents, Claire smiled all the way down the road towards the centre of the village. Things were going well for her now and she was really beginning to feel a true part of the community. Having cleared the air with Tom a week or so before had taken a load off her mind as well; she was pleased that they had spoken.

Now, in the evening light, she made to rush home. The short winter sun was beginning to set behind the distant trees, and she did not like to be out after dark but that said, she could not resist a call for help when it was made and thus, she found herself being pulled into Mary Munro’s home, as she passed it, to settle her little girl, Jennifer, who was in pain.

So pre-occupied was she with Mary’s distress that she did not realise that her presence had been noted by three of the lesser gentlemen from Broch Murdha. 

***** 

Claire had met Mary and her daughter, Jennifer, a few days before when she and Jamie had been drawn away from their tasks at the croft by the panicked cries of a woman under great strain. Mary had managed to carry her eight-year-old daughter, Jennifer, over two miles from where she had fallen, some way from home, to have Claire look at her broken leg.

Jamie had immediately run to Mary to relieve her heavy load and despite her initial shock at seeing the infamous, and much-despised, Mr Fraser run towards her, when he gave her a nod of reassurance, telling her “I’ve got her, Mistress Munro, dinnae be afeard?!”, she gave over her daughter’s weight to him, exhausted, as Claire reached them too and supported her to the house. 

Jennifer had fallen unconscious from the shock of the pain as Mary had carried her but soon awoke screaming and panicked when Claire had had to douse her wound with alcohol, lest it become infected. With the bone protruding through the skin, this was a real risk. 

Things then took a turn for the worse as Jennifer began to flail about in terror, in her mother’s arms. Even if Mary had not been so exhausted from the journey, she still would not have been able to hold her traumatised little girl still. Claire appealed directly to Jamie, who had been standing by ready to assist,

“Jesus, Jamie, do something or she’s going to cause even more damage to this leg – I may not be able to save it then!” 

Jamie took decisive action and lifted Jennifer swiftly from her mother’s arms. He sat with her on his lap enveloped firmly, but gently, in his arms as he spoke soft, soothing words to her.

“Seall orm, Jennifer! Seall orm. Tha thu sàbhailte, a ghràidh. Tha thu sàbhailte! _Look at me, Jennifer! Look at me. You are safe, my darlin’. You are safe!_ ”

Gradually, as Jennifer caught and held the red-haired man’s kind gaze, she began to still.

“Thank Christ for that!” Claire murmured and set about sorting the bone, the wound and splinting the leg as swiftly as she could. Jamie softly talked Jennifer through all that Claire was doing and each time Jennifer nodded in response and simply clung tighter to Jamie whenever a particular moment hurt. If Claire had had the time to think on it, she would have been curious of just how experienced he seemed to be at calming a distressed child.

Jennifer was so brave and managed not to cry out again. When the doctoring was completed and arrangements had been made for her to be transferred home, Mary proffered her thanks to both Claire and Jamie, holding Jamie’s eye for that little bit longer; silently conveying more than Claire knew. Jamie simply nodded his head; caught Claire’s eye and made his way home.

***** 

It turned out that Mary had called Claire in as she passed by that evening because Jennifer was struggling with the pain again and needed further attentions from the Sassenach healer. Claire was only too happy to tend to her, glad to have the chance to see her brave little patient again.

And so, it was that Claire eventually found herself on her way home, far later than she had planned, with dusk well and truly passing. As she rounded into the village square, she very quickly became aware of a familiar stench and her guard was raised immediately. She did not have to wait too long for the bastard to show himself, but this time he had company. She surmised that that was probably his brother and the friend that Annie Anderson had mentioned so coolly. Even though she was ready for it, his weaselly tone shot an icy shard of dread straight into her heart.

“Wid ye look here boys, it’s the wee Sassenach witch an’ her bag o’ potions. Ye shouldnae be oot so late all on yer ain, lassie!”

Claire tried to ignore them and keep on walking through the square.

_Shit! How the hell did I end up here! This is NOT going to end well! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

“Hey! Dinnae ignore a man when he’s talkin’ tae ye, lassie! I warned ye! …I think it’s time we teach this Sassenach bitch her place, lads!” Anderson grabbed for her arm with his filthy hand. Claire was ready for him though and she swung her clenched fist around, punching him square across the jaw.

_Hit ‘em hard, hit ‘em fast!_

Despite being momentarily shocked at the unladylike response, and being a man well-versed in brawls, his hand came up to roughly slap her cheek immediately. Claire staggered somewhat from both the shock and force of the connection but keeping her wits about her, she swung her elbow up and made solid contact with his jaw, as he made to lunge for her again. This caused him to bite his tongue badly and for his head to loll back into the air for a moment, drunk-like.

Meanwhile, the other two brutes, having been happy watching the show, realised that this was no ordinary woman and began to step forward to assist. Seeing what was about to ensue, Claire made to run off, but Anderson managed to grab hold of her hair. As she readied to elbow him in the stomach, he jerked her ear towards his mouth and with a grimace, he spat out, 

“Ye fuckin’ slut! Parading yersel aroond wieoot a husband tae keep ye in line. I’ll show ye how we deal wie wee Sassenach bitches who stray too far up here intae the Highlands!”

Suddenly, a huge pair of hands came from nowhere and grabbed hold of Anderson yanking him away from Claire. A punch landed so hard on Anderson’s jaw that it took him to the ground in one smooth movement. It was followed by a near feral,

“Get yer hands the hell away fae her!”

The other two men took one step forward each and with a one-two of lightening speed, the towering hulk had floored them too.

_Jamie!_

He growled at them further,

“Get tae fuck, ye cowardly wee bastards, pickin’ on a fine woman like Mistress Beauchamp! Stay the hell away fae her or next time I'll gut ye fae yer heart tae yer baws, ye wee pissants! Ye hear me?!”

Hearing something slurred along the lines of “Get tae fuck yersel’, Fraser!” Jamie reached down and grabbed Anderson’s jacket, bringing him right up into his face and in a chilling tone, between clenched teeth he whispered,

“…an’ if I ever see that ye've raised yer hand tae that bonnie wee wife o' yours again, ye wee piece o' shite…

The fury in Jamie began to build further, and he spat out,

“Gheibh mi thu far a bheil thu a ’cadal agus gearraidh mi dheth na testicles agus bheir mi iad do bhean air truinnsear! _I will find you where you sleep, and I will cut off your testicles and present them to your wife on a plate!"_

And with that, he flung the man back down to the ground and searched for Claire, eager to ensure she was safe. Claire had frozen, stunned rigid with shock at Jamie’s sudden and violent appearance; she met his eye as he dropped Anderson. Silently, he led her away from the square towards the side of town on which the road to their crofts was to be found.

As they exited the square though, he suddenly took her by the elbow and led her down the back of an empty building. When they stopped, Claire leaned back against the wall of the building, resting her head against the daub to catch her breath, tentatively feeling her raw cheek as she did so. Jamie raised his left arm up onto the wall above her head, just beneath the thatch. He looked over his left shoulder to make sure that they had not been followed. For a few moments, the only sounds that could be heard were their heavy breathing.

As Claire began to take in what she could of Jamie, despite only having the moonlight to navigate by, she could see that he was extremely tense and wound up _exceptionally_ tight; she had never seen him looking quite so…big. There was no other word for it. She had always felt that he had an obvious Viking heritage to him and every inch of it was on show right now; Claire found it mesmerising.

First to catch her eye was his tall stature, towering over her, made even more impressive by that huge, raised arm, ending in a solid massive hand. Claire marvelled at how those hands that had just set themselves upon Anderson in such violence, were the same ones that she had seen cradle little Jennifer Munro so delicately only a few days before. Then it was those broad oaken shoulders that filled her mind, looking like they could hold the heaviest of loads.

The strain of his left bicep against his woollen jacket sleeve, currently next to her head, rendered her ability to blink non-existent for a time and the smooth plane of his neck had her feeling suddenly hot and definitely more than a little bothered. Still leaning on his raised hand, Jamie turned to her, completely oblivious of her fascination, and asked,

“Christ, woman! Whit the hell were ye thinkin’ walkin' through the village this late, an’ on yer ain? Are ye mad?!"

He looked straight at her, searching her face, trying to understand; also trying very hard to ignore the beauty of her delicate mouth and the rich depth of her gaze. It took Claire a moment to find her voice. Somehow, she found herself sounding earnest and was desperately keen for him to know that she was not _trying_ to be reckless, 

"I wasn't planning on being so late! I've been with Eileen MacGowan all day - she was having her baby. It was her first. Then I got stopped by Mary Munro as she needed help with Jennifer; she was in pain with her leg and before I knew it, it was near dark."

As she spoke, Claire’s attention was suddenly drawn to the sound of Jamie’s continued breathlessness and she became very, very aware of just how exceptionally close he was standing to her at this precise moment. In fact, she realised that this was the closest that he had _ever_ stood to her and she quite abruptly found that her own lungs were becoming constricted again.

"Christ, Claire, whit if I hadnae been there? Whit if they'd..."

Never one to enjoy being reminded of her feminine inequalities, Claire stood her ground, her chin raised and retorted,

“I’m not some weak little woman you know! I was doing fine, thank you very much. I was just about to…"

With sudden emotion, Jamie quickly raised his other hand above Claire on her right, surrounding her completely, mainly to stop himself from falling; so shocked at her words, and in an angry, loud whisper, he reminded her,

"There were three o’ them, woman! Three! Whit if they had..."

Jamie raised his head up to the darkened sky, eyes closed and his arms still either side of her, trying to drive away the images in his head of what the foul wee shits might have done to her, had he not of made it to her in time.

Completely oblivious to the visceral arousal he was causing in Claire, Jamie took large mouthfuls of air into his lungs, his broad chest rising and falling before her face, until very slowly he brought his head down between his arms, towards the ground, eyes closed; the ends of some of his loose curls almost touching Claire’s lips as the passed. They might as well have done, given the effect they had on her melting core. 

Gradually, Jamie’s nightmares dissipated, but then he could not help himself. Maybe it was the herbal scent of her so close to him or the sudden awareness of the body heat that she was radiating; he really did not know, but all he could feel was a rush of powerful arousal washing over him. The brush with danger seemed to leave him with an acute need for a carnal connection, but he knew that such a thing was no longer his to claim from anyone and so, experience told him that it would pass, as it always had before, if he simply rode it out.

The same urge had washed over Claire too though and seeing his exposed neck so near to her; his carotid arteries throbbing so close in front of her eyes, coupled with the delicious, earthy smell that was _Jamie_ ; hay, soil, wood, smoke, and a little male sweat, was enticing, to say the least. She had to fight every urge in her body to not lay her mouth on it, just to feel the pulsing of his blood within his sweat-laden skin. Claire forced herself to stop thinking about how it would feel to touch, for fear that a groan might escape her.

Trying to get a grip on the situation, Jamie opened his eyes and swept them up, only to find Claire staring straight at him, with an equal look of intensity, he thought; her luminosity evident even in the moonlight. He was stunned mute.

_Whit the…?_

Jamie watched Claire’s eyes drift lazily to his lips and he could not help but open his mouth ever so slightly in response. The sight of which made Claire subconsciously wet her own lips, her teeth then dragging over her lower one.

_Jesus H Roosevelt, Christ. His lips look so soft. So…delicious. How the hell have I not noticed them before?_

Jamie’s eyes remained glued directly to her mouth, as her bottom lip popped out from under her teeth and God himself could not have stopped him staring at it doing so.

_Sweet Lord, the things I wid hae those teeth dae tae me._

Slowly swallowing, Jamie hesitantly raised his gaze to meet hers again and their eyes both tried to share thoughts they dare not say aloud; trying to convey the depth of the feelings that had been building over the last six months; equally searching for connection and joint understanding.

Unfortunately, in that moment, cold, harsh reality collided with Jamie’s confidence, which waivered; his demons returned; he remembered himself and thus, he worried that maybe he was misreading her.

_How could she possibly feel the same way, ye eejit!_

Ever so reluctantly, he dragged his eyes away, removed his hands slowly from the wall and climbed to his full height; he took a small step back, slowly dropped his arms and told her, very hoarsely,

"Come lass, I'll see ye home."

Both quite oblivious to the evening’s cold air, they spoke not a word to one another the entire walk back to Claire’s croft. Not because they had nothing to say, but rather because they both felt that they had too much to say and did not know where or how to start, scared of the response; the rejection they might cause. 

However, when Jamie took the time to measure the heavy atmosphere that surrounded them as they walked, a fragile, delicate hope began to rise in him again. Something had changed between them; a taste almost palpable in the air and as she opened the door to her home, Claire turned to face Jamie and instinctively they began to gravitate back to the close proximity that they had just inadvertently shared together, each as desperate for more as the other.

Bracing herself in the doorframe, for fear she might thrust herself feverishly into his arms, Claire looked at that delicious mouth of his again and whispered,

"Thank you for seeing me back Jamie…and for helping me with those louts. You were so...."

Her voice failed her as her mind became preoccupied with replaying his warrior’s rescue. He had taken such command of the situation; her ever present hero.

How many times has he been there for her these last six months?

_Too many to count._

_Was it really simply coincidence?_

Seeing him so strong and confident was stirring something deep within her very soul. Rescuer. Protector. Liberator. Saviour.

_Lover?_

_Cut it out. For Christ’s sake!_

With a quiver in his voice, Jamie replied,

"Aye, an’ the way ye..."

Replaying what Claire had done to fight back against Anderson, Jamie considered how he had _never_ seen a woman handle herself so skilfully before. The memory made him feel more than a twitch deep within his groin. Claire had been very close to winning against Anderson, the wee shit!

_What wid it feel like tae let maself be overpowered by such a bonnie lass?_

_I wid spend ma life on ma knees, happily at her mercy, if she’d only look at me once more the way that she did back in the village._

Listening to her sultry tone, its effect was leaving Jamie so confused and deeply unnerved. On the one hand, he did not want to scare her off by acting the same lecherous way that the Anderson lads had, but on the other hand, his demons having been momentarily fought back again, he was sure that she could feel what it was between them too; the attraction was no longer one-sided. As he looked into her eyes, dark in the moonlight, he felt himself drawn helplessly into them, like active pools of enticing summer water, nestled in the peaty land.

The scorching look in Jamie’s eyes told Claire that he was indeed feeling what she was between them too; they were mere inches away from one another and she could sense primal vibrations emanating from him. But her fear at getting it wrong with him again made her waiver; the thought alone of making him cross again, risking losing his friendship forever, was enough to convince her that it was not yet worth the risk. His continued presence though was making it hard to stick to her resolve. Sensing her sudden hesitation, Jamie continued,

"Aye, well, violence will dae that tae ye..."

"Yes," she whispered, immediately caught up now in how much she wished to brush the loose tendrils of his hair back behind his ear, before tracing his mouth with her thumb; her thoughts drifting to all that he might do with it. She continued absent-mindedly,

"It's the adrenalin...it's coursing through our veins…makes us feel..."

With this, Claire swept her eyes up to Jamie’s and trapped him with a loaded stare. Through the haze it created in his mind, he found one thought rise clearly above all the others. 

_Did she just say “us”?_

Jamie could feel the pleasure that one word had caused surge an over-whelming heat to his very centre. With a near herculean strength, he forced himself to stop falling deeper into the situation. If this were truly meant to be, he would do it properly; not in a frenzied torrent of lust brought on by the intoxicating drama of violence. Almost undone by her heady words, he gasped, 

"Christ, Claire…ye’ll be the death o’ me...I've got tae go. Yer safe, aye?"

Still, he did not move. Neither did she.

"Yes…I'm safe. You saved me Jamie."

_Christ, she is sae bonnie when she’s breathless!_

_An’ there’s that magnificent cleavage o’ hers again, heavin’ up an’ down._

_Is that really because o’ me?_

_Maybe._

_No yet, no like this! Step away, man!_

"Aye. Well, it wis my pleasure, Claire. I'll no let any harm come tae ye. Get yerself locked in noo an’…I'll take my leave. I'll see ye tomorrow. We can...we can go fir a walk. We’ll talk then, aye?"

They both swallowed.

"Yes, Jamie. Yes, I'll see you tomorrow." 

Simultaneously, they each took a small reluctant step back and Jamie waited until Claire had retreated into her croft, whispering, “Good night, Jamie. Tapadh leat. _Thank you_ ,” as she shut the door.

As he walked away, she heard him groan and repeat,

“Lass…ye’ll be the death o’ me!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Tom Christie divides a lot of readers generally but I do have a soft spot for him. Some of this scene was inspired by a beautiful moment in the film Copland with Sylvester Stallone. His character rescued Liz's character when they were younger - she was drowning and he broke the window of her car under the water and saved her but it shattered his eardrum and put paid to his dream of being a cop. The last minute of the clip when she asks "Why did you never marry, Ray?"... 💔💔💔 
> 
> Here is the link: https://youtu.be/y0ZPLuXn_h4 
> 
> I'd be interested in your feedback on the last section of the chapter when describing their inner feelings and focus - I couldn't be sure whether it worked and the momentum flowed or if my 'words' detracted from the flow of the interaction.
> 
> The next chapter (or two if I feel inspired!) will bring us right up to the brawl in the village that caused Jamie's back to be exposed. I've got a general plan laid out but it may take me a little longer than a week to write and upload. *sigh* I hope you'll bear with me 😊


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